From the Ashes of Yesterday
by Jon'ic Recheio
Summary: Second chances come in many shapes and sizes. This one just happens to be in the form of a fourteen year old exvampire. Spike learns just what starting over really means, well, that and taking care of a kid...
1. If I Could, then I Would

Yes, I changed the summary for those of you few people--whom I love for reading this by the way--that have read my story. I know, I know, everyone has done the whole "Post NFA" thing, but this idea wouldn't leave me alone and this was the best way I could think of. Maybe, if I get around to sequel, the rest of the gang will come back.

* * *

It was over, done, gone. The fight—the war—had been over for hours now, but Spike barely noticed. He'd been wandering around the dusty, semi-empty alley and side streets ever since the bright light from the amulet had vaporized the enemy. Discarded weapons were the only evidence that a fight of epic proportions had gone down in the area.

Dust though, happened to be Spike's problem. Angel had worn the amulet and now Angel was gone. Spike was the last one left. Gunn, Illyria, Wesley, Angel, they were gone. He was left and he was _human_, never to turn to dust again. Now, he searched the alley for the one thing left of his sire. The amulet was all he had and he would be damned again before he left it to rot in this godforsaken place.

He stopped when his eyes alighted on a tarnished bronze chain half-covered in light gray soot. He sprinted over as fast as his shaky, tired legs would carry him. Spike fell to his knees beside the pile and frantically scraped away the demon-dust. A clear, octagon shaped diamond encased in tarnished silver heralded the end of his hysterical search.

Slowly, as if not believing his eyes, he grasped the chain of the amulet and stood. He knew better than to touch the jewel. He didn't want to release Angel from the amulet yet. No, Spike wasn't going to bring him back as a ghost. He was going to bring Angel back the way he _should_ be, not the way he _could_ be. Great men deserve rewards for their service after all.

A

_Two months later…_

Spike let out a loud sigh as he tossed his keys onto the small table in the entrance to his little apartment. He didn't have a job, but between the money he'd embezzled from the now demolished LA Wolfram and Hart, and the two of Angel's sports cars he'd stolen, he had enough to last ten years if he used it wisely. Thus, he dumped half in savings and used the rest to fund his two bedroom apartment.

He trudged into the living room, set the bag of books he'd bought on the coffee table, then fell back into a boneless heap onto the couch. He leaned forward after a moment and rested his elbows on his knees and his chin in his hands. He stared intently at the stack if books on the coffee table. This time had to be it. The answer had to be in these books. He was running out of options and time.

Spike sighed, momentarily distracted by the notion that—yes, he did have to breath now—then reached out and took the bottom book in the stack. The cover had a symbol on the front that was close to the amulet. He pushed his hope away to the back of his mind, took a deep breath, then cracked the cover. The front page was an old inked picture of the book's front cover.

He turned to the next page and frowned. It was in Latin. He could barely get by in Latin. Why couldn't it have been Klingon? He sighed again and began reading, only understanding about sixty percent of it. He read for hours, then stopped to take a much needed break. He'd swiftly come to the conclusion that eye strain sucked. He stood up and rubbed his eyes as he paced the small living room. As he passed the coffee table he glanced down at the book.

There, on the middle of the page, was the phrase he needed.

It took a moment to sink in, but once it did, Spike leapt over the coffee table to the other side and snatched up the book. He frantically read the paragraphs three times to be sure of what they said. After the last read through, he grinned.

"Score one for the good guys." He muttered happily. He turned his face to the ceiling, a sneer on his lips. "Take that you omniscient bastards!"

A

_Three hours later…_

Spike set the last flaming ivory bowl at the highest point of the pentagon. The shape was painted in sacred ashes, holy water dipped salt and a cup of his arterial blood. At each of the points was a small ivory bowl that fit in the palm of his hand. The magicked incense burned an eerie blue, but Spike didn't care.

He set the amulet in the center and laid a circle of the incense around it. He took a match and set to burn. He stepped back and stood at the point of the pentagon. He lifted the book and opened it to the correct page. The book may have been in Latin, but the incantation was in an old demon dialect that was long since dead. He steadied the book in his hands and began to read.

"Nian tio rectos esi nomnu ey rocan eith nien doth cai. Rictos moreda norie aptum cesti gathya!" Spike shouted the last part, getting into the ritual. He took a deep breath then repeated the phrases.

The ground began to shake and the air felt electric. Spike could feel the spell's power tingling along his skin. This power, he thought, was either going to kill him or work. The ground began to shake even more violently and Spike nearly lost his footing.

"Hey!" He shouted at the pentagon. "No need to kill the spell caster!"

As abruptly as it had come, the shaking stopped. Spike stood there supremely confused. He could still feel the spell's energy in the air so why had—

"Whoa!" A blinding red flash erupted from the amulet. Spike ducked and covered his eyes. When the lights on his eyelids stopped doing the disco, he pried his eyes open.

What he saw was not what he wanted. The amulet had been shattered and the pentagon was painfully empty. Spike felt all the air leave his chest as if someone had hit him. He dropped to his knees, gasping in shock. He stared blearily at the shape and his broken hope before pushing to his feet and walking away.

So," he said softly to an uncaring night, "this is the end, then?"

A

He shot awake with a strangled gasp. He rapidly blinked his brown eyes in an attempt to clear his vision and looked around. It was cold, dark and damp where he was, and he had no idea where said cold, dark and damp place was so conveniently located. He rubbed his eyes harshly and shakily pushed to his feet. He wrapped his arms around himself to ward off the cold and stumbled to a pile of blankets.

The shirt and pants were old and ratty, but he pulled them on anyway. The shoes had a hole in one of the heels but he donned them too, regardless. He brushed as much junk out of his hair as he could then stumbled down the sewer tunnel in search of food.

A

_Three weeks later…_

Spike ducked under a sloppily thrown punch and plunged the stake into the vampire's heart. He roundhouse kicked another one, knocking it off its feet. He thrust the stake through its heart and the last vampire looked at him with wide yellow eyes, then booked it as fast as its legs would carry it.

Spike made a show of dusting his coat, then turned to leave the empty alley. He was about to take a step towards the exit when he heard a distinctly frightened whimper. He froze and listened as hard as he could with his now human ears. The sound came again, from the left.

There was a stack of rotting wooden boxes and Spike moved then to find a boy, a teenage boy no older than fourteen, if that. He knelt in front of the scared kid and attempted a friendly smile. The boy didn't seem reassured. His brown eyes were still wide and his breathing was still coming in quick pants.

Spike held in a sigh and extended his right hand. "C'mon now, pet. 'M not gonna hurt you."

The boy flinched back and tried to become one with the wall. Spike cursed, the teen blinked at him. Spike rolled his eyes in exasperation and tried again.

"Look, mate, 'M not gonna hurt you, I just want to help." The kid just looked at him, but the boy's breathing seemed to be returning to normal. "'M not what they were. I won't hurt you."

The boy just jerked his head in a clear "No" gesture. Spike growled impatiently. "'M not gonna sit here all night, my knees will cramp. Now, either you let me help you, or 'm just gonna get up and leave your ass here."

Just as Spike was about to take back his hand, the boy grabbed it in an iron grip. Intense brown eyes locked onto surprised blue. Carefully, Spike pulled the boy up to stand with him. He gave the kid a small smirk.

"Great!" He exclaimed sarcastically. Spike pulled the boy out of the alley. "Time to head on home."

"Who are you?" The boy demanded after they had walked a few feet out of the alley.

Spike nearly tripped, the boy's question—and the fact he had spoken—catching him off guard. He shook his head to clear it. "Name's Spike."

"What kind of name is 'Spike'?" The boy questioned, genuinely wanting to know.

"Nickname." Spike answered shortly as they began walking again.

"Oh." The boy answered with raised eyebrows.

"What's your name, then?" Spike asked out of sheer boredom.

"Liam." The kid answered shyly.

"Irish. Means guardian." Spike answered without thinking.

"It does?" Liam asked, impressed. He smiled again. "Cool."

"Yeah, guess so." Spike answered, mentally kicking himself for his earlier comment.

He wasn't supposed to get attached, dammit! He was supposed to find the kid a home then leave and never think about him again!

"Tell you what," Spike started, "tell me where you live and I'll drive you home."

Liam stopped next to Spike at the former-vampire's old, used car. He frowned. "I, uh, well—I don't exactly have a, uh, place to stay." At Spike's look he hastened to add. "Yet! I'm in the market, as it were."

"Want me to call you 'Captain'?" Spike threw out on a whim.

"Huh?" Liam looked confused.

"Never mind." Spike waved a hand in the air. "Look, just, get in the car. You can stay with me 'til you find a place."

Liam gave Spike a grateful smile as he walked around to the passenger side. He opened the car door. "Thanks."

"No trouble." Spike muttered darkly under his breath as he got into the car. He was gonna pay for this, he just _knew_ it!

A

_One week later…_

Liam pushed up his too long shirt sleeve and got to work on Spike's book. Once the older man had figured out Liam spoke fluent Latin, he'd set the teenager to work on translating the amulet book. No matter how many times Liam asked what the book was for, Spike still wouldn't tell. The last time he'd asked he was colorfully cursed at, and after that Liam had made up his mind to never ask again.

Besides, once he finished translating, he'd know exactly what it was for. He couldn't read it because every time Spike caught him, he'd end up doing some dirty cleaning job. Liam rolled his eyes at he thought of Spike's impromptu spring cleaning. Wasn't that supposed to be done in spring? Liam gave a snort and refocused his attention on the book.

He had a feeling he was getting close to the meaning of it, the book that is, not the spring cleaning. He knew the meaning of the cleaning. Liam snickered at his lame rhyme. The meaning was; Spike was restless and impatiently waiting for Liam to finish his translating job.

Liam didn't understand why Spike was in such a hurry to read a book, he really didn't. It didn't make sense. Of course, if Liam thought about it, the fact that he himself was fluent in Latin didn't make sense either. He had no recollection of learning the language, yet he knew it. He knew better than to tell Spike this, though. His Good Samaritan read too much into stuff like that.

Spike was obsessed with prophecies. He was constantly checking for new ones, particularly ones that dealt with vampires. After only a week of living with the man, Liam knew that Spike was looking for someone and he was using crappy prophecies to do it. As if any of them will come true, Liam thought condescendingly, magic is one thing, especially since you can see it working. Prophecies are just cosmic jokes on paper.

Liam rolled his eyes at himself. He was supposed to be translating, not going off on thought tangents. He once again pulled his focus back to the book on the coffee table in front of him. Spike didn't own a kitchen table. He just had a breakfast bar with two stools to sit on.

Liam gently turned the old, yellowed page and focused on the first few sentences.

"Reparo animus per cruentus sacrificum usus forma astrum, sal necnon flamma. Declamo hoc lucuna. Hoc nutus renovo animus ut quid illud usus ut existo."

Carefully, on a separate sheet of paper, Liam wrote the rough English translation of the words.

"To restore a soul through bloody sacrifice use the form of a star, salt and also fire. Speak loudly these words. This will restore the soul to what it used to be."

Liam frowned in contemplation at his translation. It all seemed a bit odd, he thought. Why did Spike want to restore a soul through blood? Furthermore, whom did he want to restore? This, to Liam, brought into question Spike himself. Was his new friend good or evil? Could Liam even judge this with his limited knowledge of the world? Did he himself even know the difference between good and evil?

Liam found himself afraid of the answer. He honestly didn't know. The vampires that had attacked him sure seemed evil, at any rate. Spike had killed them to save Liam…right? But, if he didn't kill them to save me, then why did he? Liam thought, confusion taking over. Why else would Spike dust those vampires if not to save him?

Perhaps, Liam found himself thinking, Spike did it for personal fame. Maybe, he was racking up a count of nasties to give himself some sort of convoluted reputation? Liam shook his head. Part of him thought Spike may have done that in the past, but now he just "helped the helpless" like he'd said. Liam put his pen down, leaned back in his chair, then ran his hands thought his unkempt hair and over his face.

Nothing makes sense anymore, Liam thought bitterly. It made sense five minutes ago, now it doesn't. He sighed heavily and righted himself in his chair. He grabbed the paper and pushed up off the couch. He walked back towards Spike's room and knocked softly on the closed door.

"What?" Spike's irate bark was muffled by the door.

"I've translated something I think you might want to see!" Liam shouted at the bland, white door.

The door was flung open almost immediately after Liam had finished his sentence. Spike stared back at him red-eyed, hair askew and clothes obviously sleep rumpled. The older and blinked his red, dry eyes and thrust out a hand for the paper Liam held in loose fingers. The teen handed Spike the yellow legal paper without comment.

Spike stared down at it for along moment, a frown marring his chiseled features. He ran a hand absently through his hair, then looked up at Liam. A strange emotion lit the older man's eyes.

"Are you sure this is what the bloody book says?" Spike asked slowly.

Liam nodded. "Yeah, I'm sure that's what it says." He paused. "Why?"

"Doesn't matter." The brit answered with a dismissive wave of his hand.

"Look, I know you have no reason to trust me-"

"Damn straight-"

Liam gave Spike a frustrated look at the interruption. "-but I think I deserve to know what you're goin' to do with that spell. I mean, blood sacrifice generally indicates black magic, but that amulet sounds like light magic so you can see-"

"I get it." Spike cut off the question. He sighed wearily. He looked as if the weight of the world was on his shoulders. "I already tried the spell-"

"You did what-"

"But it didn't work!" Spike hastened to add. He seemed more depressed than usual. "The amulet shattered and nothing happened."

"No, that can't be right." Liam muttered thoughtfully. "The book said the breaking of the amulet meant the soul had been restored. It doesn't make any-"

"You're sayin' this worked?" Spike waved the paper in Liam's face. His blue eyes came alive with hope. "You mean to tell me after all this time the poof was alive and I didn't know it?"

"I, well-" Liam was once again cut off.

"I have to find him—we have to find him!" Spike ran into the entry hallway, grabbing his coat and keys. He stopped at the door and turned to glare at a stunned Liam.

"Hurry up already!"

Liam hurried to join him.

A

They'd been trolling LA for hours now. The sun had gone down about an hour ago, but Spike refused to listen to reason and return home. Liam knew the vampires were out, he'd told Spike this. The peroxide brit had pointedly ignored him and valiantly continued his search. At this point, Liam was just stumbling after him, not caring if they found this "poof" or not.

He'd never walked so much in his life! His legs hurt and felt like they were made of lead. His feet were nearly numb and he was fairly sure he couldn't feel his toes. How could Spike possibly keep going without stopping for a few minutes, seconds even? He ran a hand through his hair, making it look even more unkempt. It curled over his forehead and stoop up in tufts in the back.

Liam's tired brown eyes blearily surveyed the street. For some strange reason, he was almost absolutely sure that Spike wouldn't find "the poof" on the streets of LA. Something told Liam that this man Spike was looking for did not want to be found. Leastways, not yet. He was sure of it.

But, Spike was seemingly immune to commonsense, thus, he trudged wearily on dutifully after his rescuer. He did owe him after all, Liam reasoned. Spike had saved his life; he owed him more than a few painful hours walking around a dark city.

"Spike," Liam said carefully, "what's this guy's name, I mean this 'poof' you're lookin' for?"

Spike chuckled lightly at the nickname. "His name's Angel." He answered with a strange sort of fondness. "Despite bein' a terrible ponce, he was a good man. Now, he's all I've got left."

"How so?" Liam inquired, his curiosity getting the better of him.

Spike spun on him, his eyes bright with anger. "None of your damn business!"

Liam recoiled in shock, eyes going wide. The look on Spike's face was vicious. Liam had the strange feeling that if Spike were a vampire, he would have been in gameface, snarling for all he was worth.

"Geez!" Liam threw up his hands in a gesture of surrender. "It was just a question. Sorry I even thought it, much less asked it!"

Spike seemed to back down in the face of Liam's obvious fear. He looked strangely apologetic, yet didn't bring himself to actually voice the feeling. He simply turned on his heel and continued his futile search for his missing friend.

Liam took in a deep, steadying breath in an attempt to calm his nerves. It had little, if any, effect. He straightened his shoulders and continued wearily on. This was going to take all night, he was sure.

A

_Three weeks later…_

It'd been over a month since Liam had moved in with Spike. The blond had stopped his nightly search for Angel roughly ten days ago. Liam had felt a weight lift off his shoulders when Spike had announced this little gem of information.

A few days after the search had ended; Liam had found himself in school. Spike had told him it was a necessary evil, but Liam suspected it was more to get him out of Spike's bleached hair than anything else. He picked up his pencil and idly doodled on a sheet of notebook paper. School was boring. He found he knew nearly everything that was being taught already.

It was yet another oddity of his that he didn't confess to Spike. The other was his obviously enhanced hearing. He could hear things his classmates couldn't. He'd quickly learned not to mention those things to them either. The crazy looks he'd gotten the first time had been one time too many for him and sufficiently enough to teach a lesson. In high school, do not advertise the fact that you are different, no matter what.

So, in light of this rule, he kept his mouth firmly shut and everyone forgot about him. That is, everyone but Kira and Josh. Those two had elected themselves his friends and, if he were honest, he didn't really mind it. It was nice to talk to some one his own age and not Spike and his many, unpredictable, mood swings. One minute, Spike is semi-content, the next he's in a snit, then suddenly oppressively depressed. Liam was beginning to suspect some sort of bi-polar disorder.

Well, either that or menopause.

He snickered aloud at this thought and Josh—who was sitting on his left—threw him a strange look. Liam just shook his head, tacitly saying, "Don't ask."

The teacher droned on for another thirty minutes, then the bell ran, signaling the end of history class. Liam gathered up his notebooks, not bothering to inspect the picture he had absently drawn on a sheet of paper. He turned to Josh and the two walked out of the class amidst a throng of other freshmen. Liam looked over at his friend and finally noticed the concerned look he was getting from the other boy.

"What, Josh?" Liam asked with a smirk. "Are you tryin' to scare me or somethin'?"

"I'll take or something." Josh replied, dead serious. His green eyes regarded Liam with worry. He pointed at the notebook, which was open to the page of Liam's doodle. "Dude, look at your picture. What the hell is that?"

Liam frowned and did just that. His eyes went wide. It was a vampire…only, he recognized the face behind the demon's.

It was his.

A

Liam barged through the door of the apartment he and Spike shared. He dropped his backpack on the floor and slammed the door shut. His history notebook was clutched tightly in his right hand and he opened to the page of his frightening drawing. His heart was doing the tango in his chest and his breathing was keeping time.

"Spike!" He shouted the panic obvious in his voice. He'd pushed the picture aside during school as that wasn't the place to have a nervous breakdown. "Spike!"

"Stop shriekin' me name!" Spike shouted back as he stalked into the living room. He froze when he met the full force of Liam's panic.

"Look at this! Look at this!" Liam thrust the notebook at Spike, who had to catch it before it fell.

The once-vampire looked at the picture and his jaw dropped. There, staring back at him in full artistic detail, was Angelus. Spike had seen that face enough to be able to identify it anywhere. He stood there slack jawed, nearly oblivious to Liam's hysterics. He frowned, then fixed Liam with a look.

"Where did you get this?"

"-and Josh started freakin' and I didn't know what to do and-" Spike's question brought Liam's rambling to an abrupt halt. He stared at Spike in confusion for a moment before comprehension dawned. He swallowed hard. "I-I drew it."

"You what?" Spike's voice was dangerously soft.

"I told you, I drew it." Liam answered, getting himself back under control. "Why?"

"This," Spike held up the picture, his eyes glinting dangerously, "is Angelus."

"Who?" Liam asked before he could think the question through. A light went off inside his mind. "That's Latin, it means…" Wide brown eyes looked into dark blue. "…Angel." He gasped and pointed at the picture. "That's Angel? A vampire?"

"Yes, it is." Spike said, his voice flat.

"You released a vampire from the amulet?" Liam demanded, the fact that he had been the one to draw the picture in the first place temporarily forgotten.

"Vampire with a soul!" Spike defended. His eyes darkened even more. "Let's not forget now, _Liam_, who drew this lovely piece of art."

It was Liam's turn to be slack jawed with shock. "How-how could I have possibly-"

"I don't know!" Spike snarled, finally loosing his cool. "But you did! Explain it to me!"

"I can't!" Liam shouted desperately back. He gestured wildly at the picture. "When I first saw it, I thought it was me! I still do, for that matter!"

Spike was gob smacked again. He blinked, blinked again, then abruptly tore the likeness in half. He fixed Liam with a look that spoke strangely of finality. "It's not you. Don't mention it again."

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Yahoo. Well, that was the end of chappie one. Feed the starving writer reviews!


	2. This Isn't a Game!

Ye-ah. Here's chapter two. The other three will be posted one a day, like I said before. Review!

* * *

A

_Two days later…_

Liam sighed and ran his left hand through his hair. He set his pencil down and flexed his hand. He was sitting on his lumpy inter-spring mattress with an olive green comforter on it. Surrounding him on the small twin bed were sheets of paper. Rendered beautifully in pencil was one face. The same demonic face he'd shown Spike two days ago.

Liam had stuck a metal folding chair under the door to keep it firmly locked. Spike had a habit of breaking down doors. Spike had told him in no uncertain terms to forget about the likeness. Liam couldn't bring himself to simply "forget". He needed to solve the puzzle, to get the vampire out of his system.

He had a strange feeling that the man in his many sketches was talking to him. He just couldn't figure how, or why, for that matter. He wasn't behind Spike's decision to free the vampire from the amulet, but he understood it. Spike was clinging to the only thing he thought he had left. Liam knew his friend was still searching the city for Angel, and he couldn't bring himself to call Spike on it.

Part of him wanted to meet this so-called "hero". He wanted to understand what Spike saw in him. He wanted to meet the "Great Bloody Ponce" in person so he could understand _why_ Spike called the vampire that. He suspected it came from an old dislike of the vampire, but was now said out of fondness.

Liam knew, though, that Spike did not hold any fondness for him. If the older man managed to get into the room and see the drawings, he would throw Liam out on his ass. Liam didn't want to be homeless at this point in time. He'd come to like Spike, respect him even, he didn't want to do anything to make the brit even more indifferent to him. Spike, for all his good qualities, had a ridiculously short fuse.

Liam had learned fairly quickly to stay away when Spike was angry. If he was close to being irate, it was best to just be quiet and try as hard as possible to be invisible. Liam sighed and refocused his eyes on his newest sketch. Strangely, the man wasn't in gameface this time.

Haunted eyes stared up at Liam from the paper. The pain of a hundred years of guilt was etched into his expression. Liam swallowed thickly. The likeness' hair was long, matted and dirty as it hung around the man's face. He was in pain. Horrible, gut-wrenching, pain. Liam felt his stomach clench painfully at the sight of the image. Shadows of this pain were on Spike's face everyday.

His left hand lightly touched the paper. He could scarcely believe he had drawn the portrait. The heartache in the vampire's eyes was far too vivid to have been penned by imagination. This pain had to be experienced first. It was deep, cruel, and so excruciatingly fresh. Liam had the strange thought that this is what Angel must have looked like after he'd been granted his soul.

Liam's eyes went wide. How could he know this? Was Angel really speaking through him, or was he simply loosing his mind? Nothing was making sense anymore. Ever since he'd met Spike his life had ceased to make sense. The blond had thrown a spanner into the simple order of his life, and Liam wasn't sure if he was grateful or angry.

He sighed again and leaned back on his bed to stare at the ceiling. His homework was finished, and Josh had believed his half-assed explanation about the first drawing and hadn't commented on it again. Kira had given him a weird look, but hadn't done anything else in that regard.

To Liam, his life had a strange feeling of normalcy, even in all the oddities. He had a hunch that his life would always be like this and had been before he'd met Spike. He just hadn't realized it yet. He let out a breath and folded his hands behind his head. Life, Liam thought, was just one big three-ring circus disguised as an orderly highway.

A

_Next day…_

Liam rested his chin in his hands and his elbows on the desktop as he stared into nothingness. School was mind numbingly boring until lunch. At lunch, he was able to talk to his friends while doing whatever the hell he wanted. The first week of class had taught him that school was easy and that he spoke fluent Spanish as well as Latin.

The teacher didn't particularly like him, though. He knew everything that was being taught and often read, drew or slept through classes. Spanish especially. He'd corrected the teacher once, and that had not gone down well. In retribution, Mrs. Manners had given him an "F" on the assignment. Amongst all of his one-hundred percent "A's" it really didn't hold much weight.

If he wasn't aloud to miss too many days of school, Liam wouldn't even have been in class. He was considering talking to Spike about getting out of school and into some sort of job instead. He was fairly good with languages, maybe he could be and interpreter or something? Or maybe a graphic artist. He honestly wasn't sure what a fourteen year old boy was aloud to do besides school.

He sighed and refocused his attention onto the history teacher's lecture. Maybe, if miracles really did happen, he'd learn something new.

"…the Galway Massacre of 1753 was performed by the British forces as they attempted to gain ground in Ireland—yes Liam?" Mr. Trent said when he noticed Liam's raised hand.

"Galway wasn't decimated by the Brits." Liam answered. He felt his insides twist painfully. "It was done by one man, a resident in the little town."

"No, the British-"

"It wasn't England!" Liam exclaimed angrily. His conscience was eating him alive. "It was Angelus! He used to be called Liam O'Connor, up until Darla got her mitts on him. He killed his family first, then rained hell on the rest of that poor town. It wasn't the Brits!"

"Mr. Liam." Mr. Trent said, his voice tight with anger. "Angelus and Liam O'Connor are not real people. They did not exist."

"Yes, they did! You're just too close-minded to see it!" Liam was too involved in his argument to notice the stunned looks Kira was sending his way.

"That's enough!" Trent shouted, slamming his fist down. "One more word out of you, and you'll be meeting with Mr. Grisham!"

Liam crossed his arms over his chest and sent Mr. Trent a poisonous look, but he kept his mouth shut. The teacher went back to his incorrect lecture and Liam continued to glower at him in a huff. He hated it when people purposefully obfuscated the truth!

"Liam!" Kira whispered harshly.

Liam's head jerked up and he looked over at Kira. He frowned. "Yeah?"

"How did you know all of that, about Angelus, I mean." Kira seemed almost apprehensive, not impressed and curious as she tried to seem.

Liam's internal radar went off. "I just, heard about it somewhere, that's all."

"Liam." Kira hissed tightly. She dropped her feeble pretense. "What do you know about vampires?"

Liam's eyes widened. "Enough. Why?"

"Because," Kira started, "you shouldn't try to hunt them, leave that to me."

"Leave it to you?" Liam asked incredulously. A light went off in his mind accompanied by a bittersweet feeling. "You're a Slayer?"

Kira seemed stunned for a brief moment. "I-yes, I am."

"Wow, what are the odds?" Liam asked himself. He smiled at her. "I can speak Latin fluently, ya know."

"Really?" Kira seemed impressed and hopeful. "Can you help me and my, uh, watcher with something?"

"Uh, sure." Liam wondered why he felt a fresh pang of sorrow at the word "watcher". He frowned. "Where do you live?"

A

Kira's house was the typical suburban family home. Her little brother was upstairs in his room and mom was in the kitchen, working on dinner. For a fleeting moment, Liam was extremely jealous. The feeling was gone in seconds, and only a haunting echo remained of it. He was sitting awkwardly on the living room couch, wondering desperately what the hell he was going to do with himself.

The sound of the front door opening and closing snapped Liam's attention back. He looked up to see a young man, barely twenty-five, standing in the entrance of the living room looking at him. Liam's brown eyes locked with the man's bright hazel ones. The man wore a knit vest over a button-down long sleeve shirt and khaki pants. Brown, nondescript shoes completed the ensemble.

"You must be Liam." The man said in a cultured British accent as he entered the room. He sat on the couch catty-corner from Liam. "James Cunningham, I am Kira's-"

"-watcher." Liam filled in without missing a beat. The guy seemed far too stuffy for his tastes.

"Yes, I am. I understand you can assist me with a translation?" James replied, sounding civil to cover up his indignation at Liam's interruption.

"Yeah, sure, I think." Liam shrugged noncommittally. "Haveta see it first to be sure."

"Oh, right, of course." Cunningham said absently. He reached into a brown messenger bag and pulled out an old, dusty scroll. He opened it and gently passed it to Liam.

Liam's eyes rounded. There, on the bottom right side of the scroll was a signature, in blood. Fiery brown eyes burned into James. "Where did you get this?"

"You know what it is, then?" James seemed oblivious to Liam's anger.

"Yes, I know what it is!" Liam snapped. James flinched.

"Liam!" Kira scolded as she walked into the room. "No need to be nasty!"

"How did you get a hold of the Shanshu prophecy?" Liam demanded of Cunningham, completely ignoring Kira.

James looked gob smacked. "That-that is-is the Shanshu prophecy? About the vampire with a soul?"

"Yes." Liam said tightly, eyes flashing. "How. Did. You. Get. It?"

"I-I-I merely stumbled upon it!" James stuttered out, his courage fleeing in the face of Liam's anger. He could see something in Liam's eyes that simply terrified him. "I-it-it looked important so I retrieved it and brought it home! That's all, I swear!"

"Where did you find it?" Liam questioned. He voice was velvet wrapped steel.

"In the ruins of an old mansion that used to belong to a powerful dark wizard named Vail." Cunningham said hurriedly. "The co-council wanted me to inspect the mansion, nothing more!"

The malice left Liam's eyes as if it had never been there in the first place. "Cyvus Vail?"

"Y-yes." James stuttered, eyes wide and pulse racing.

Liam frowned down at the signature on the paper. "What happens when a person signs a prophecy about them in blood?"

Cunningham seemed to have wrestled back control of his emotions. "If there is more than one candidate, the signature declares it null and void for the signing party."

Liam felt his breath leave his lungs. "What?"

"It's an effective method for balancing fate." James replied, watcher training taking over. "When the unexpected crops up, the universe looses equilibrium. It can be restored once a clear candidate is produced."

Liam stared down at the blood signed document. "I-I can't believe he actually signed this…"

"Believe who signed it?" Kira asked carefully, mindful of Liam's earlier outburst.

"Angel." Liam answered, almost reverently. His brown eyes locked with Kira's. "He signed away the right to the Shanshu." He paused. His eyes lit with curiosity. "But, if he signed it away, then who won the prize?"

"Do you mean Angelus?" Kira asked, irritation leaking into her voice.

"No, Angel, the vampire with a soul." Liam clarified for reasons unknown to him. A strange piece of information filtered into his mind. "He was the Powers champion until he died saving the world almost four months ago."

James seemed shocked at this bit of news. "He did? How do you know this?"

"I know an old friend of his who fought with him. He was the only one to survive." Liam answered absently, his eyes locked on the prophecy. He started to speak again, sounding distant. "The words of Anatole will cure a person who has been afflicted with vision psychosis."

"How do you know _that_?" James demanded this time. "And how do you know of the downfall of Wolfram and Hart? Who is this friend?"

Liam's head snapped up. His face radiated confusion. "Know what? Never mind. The man who fought with Angel, his name is Spike. Near as I can figure, the other members of the team died."

"William the Bloody fought with Angelus to save the world?" Cunningham exclaimed in surprise and disbelief. "What is the world coming too?"

"Who's William the Bloody?" Liam sounded annoyed and apprehensive at the same time.

"Spike." James answered bluntly. "He is a vampire."

"You're friends with a vampire?" Kira nearly shrieked as she rounded on Liam.

"He's human!" Liam said hurriedly with anger. "I felt his heart beat myself…" He trailed of at the end. Shock lit his face. "He was the other candidate for the Shanshu…Angel must have given it up for him. No wonder he wants to find him so bad."

"Spike is looking for Angel?" James asked slowly. "Please clarify. I thought you said Angel had perished?"

"He did." Liam answered, confusing Kira and her watcher even more. "But he used this amulet that only works with true heroes to vaporize the enemy. Spike had used it before to destroy the Hellmouth."

"That does not fully answer my question." Cunningham interjected with a condescending look at Liam.

"I was gettin' to that! Geez, impatient much?" Liam sent James a hard glare and the watcher had to reign in a flinch. "The user's soul gets stored in the amulet. Spike released him in physical form, he thinks. I'm fairly sure he did too, it's just, we can't find him."

"The ensouled vampire is wandering around LA?" James sought clarification once again.

"Maybe." Liam's shoulders sagged. "Spike seems sure he is and he won't accept anythin' else. I think he's left the city. I think, he thinks, that everyone, includin' Spike, is dead. He left the city to get away from the memories."

"A valid theory." Cunningham said with an obnoxious air of superiority. He gestured to the Shanshu prophecy. "This has already come to pass, then?"

"Yeah, it has." Liam's intense brown eyes locked with Cunningham's hazel ones. "Look, Spike isn't alive to everyone else, meanin', his enemies. He'd appreciate it if you didn't spread the word that he's human."

"I quite agree." James answered. His haughty confidence had returned.

"Great!" Kira said with false cheer. She leveled her best glare at Liam but he merely stared blandly back at her. "So, you live with a born-again-vampire, then?"

"Yeah." Liam said dryly.

"Huh." It was quite clear that Kira did not fully trust him anymore. "The worst vampire to ever live, second only too-"

"Me." Liam whispered, a strange flash of picture going through his mind. He looked up from the floor and noticed the cross-eyed looks he was getting. "What? Second only to who?"

Cunningham cleared his throat and puffed out his chest like a peacock. "Angelus."

"Angel?" Liam frowned, his brow marring in concern. "Wonderful."

"Angelus is reported to have sired William in several reports." Cunningham decided to twist the knife to get back at Liam for intimidating him earlier. "However, other reports from Sunnydale claim Drusilla did the deed."

"No," Liam's eyes seemed distant as he stared at a point over James' shoulder. "Angelus sired him." He snapped back into the present with a jerk of his head. Kira and her watcher were giving him weird looks again. "What? Why do you keep lookin' at me like that?"

"Nothing." Kira said with an eye roll. She glanced at the clock. "It's getting late, you ought to head home. Where do you live?"

"Within walkin' distance." Liam answered as the three of them stood.

Cunningham glanced out the window. The sun had just dipped below the horizon. "I will accompany you. The sun has set."

Liam ran a hand over his face. "Great. Just what I wanted." He squared his shoulders and opened the front door. "Lucky I always carry a stake. Let's go."

A

They'd walked for ten minutes before they'd stumbled upon the alley way Liam used as a short cut during the day. It was dark, long and they couldn't see the end of it from where they stood. Kira and her watcher were standing on either side of Liam. He could tell they both wanted to cut through the alley. Liam knew better.

"This isn't a good idea." He said bluntly, eyes fixed on the alley.

"No, most likely not." James said distractedly. "How much time will it save?"

"Fifteen minutes." Liam said shortly. He waved his hand in the air. "But that doesn't matter. It's too long and too dangerous to go through that alley at night."

"I'm a Slayer." Kira said. She hefted her stake in her hand and began to walk down the alley, Cunningham following close behind.

"Oh, hell." Liam cursed under his breath. "Dammit! C'mon guys, let's not do this today!"

"It's safe!" Cunningham's shouted echoed slightly off the alley walls.

"Right. And I'm Barry Manilow." Liam muttered darkly. He flexed his shoulders, grasped his stake, then followed his crazy friends into the alley.

"Guys! Hey, guys! Wait already, geez!" Liam snapped as he hurried to catch up. He tuned his exceptional hearing up as high as it would go so he could hear the slightest sound. Most vampires, he'd realized, wore analog watches that ticked.

"So, you came after all." Kira said snidely.

Liam got the impression she was trying to create peer pressure. It didn't work. "Yeah, I did. That way, I can make sure you two geniuses don't get yourselves killed."

"I am a watcher, fighting evil creatures of the night is what I—what was that?" Cunningham whirled around when he heard gravel shift.

"Me!" Liam said simply to prove a point. "You're afraid of your own shadow, how the hell do you expect to fight off vampires?"

"I do it for him." Kira answered with more confidence than she felt. She hadn't actually "slayed" anything yet.

"Wonderful! I'm being protected by Wesley and Buffy junior!" Liam felt the air leave his lungs as he said the names. His guts twisted and his heart clenched painfully.

"Who?" Kira and Cunningham asked in unison.

"No one, never mind." Liam answered tiredly. He ran a hand through his hair. A sound filtered into his over sensitive ears.

Tick. Tick. Tick.

Liam sucked in a breath. It was a watch. "We've got company."

As soon as the words were out of his mouth, three vampires jumped down from a fire escape and surrounded the trio. Glowing yellow eyes and snarling countenances greeted Liam. He let out a nervous sounding chuckle.

"Hi. How're ya?" Liam held in a wince. Boy, was that lame. "Me, I'm good. Don't know about you, bein' dead 'n all."

"Think you're funny?" The leader, a woman, snarled.

"Well," Liam paused for effect, "yeah."

The woman snarled and lunged at him. Liam side stepped and the fight began. Kira side-kicked the first male vampire in the ribs and he stumbled back with wide yellow eyes. His thoughts were easily read on his over expressive face.

"Slayer!" He shouted loudly.

"And friends!" Liam swung his fist hard into the female's head, knocking her five feet through the air.

He looked from his hand to the stunned vampire and back again. Liam locked eyes with her and a sneer worked its way onto his lips. He charged, faster than the eye could see, at the leader. She snarled and met his punch with a quick, sloppy arm block. He spun and backhanded the side of her face with his left fist.

She crashed into a metal dumpster with an eerie howl. Her eyes glowed bright and she jumped with all her might up into the air, aiming for Liam's head. Just as she was about to hit, he thrust the stake into her heart. Her shocked eyes locked with his, then without preamble, she turned to dust.

"Help!" Liam's head snapped towards the last place he had seen Cunningham to see one of the males sinking his teeth into the watcher's neck.

"Hey!" Liam raced over, stake held high. "Get off him you overgrown mosquito!"

Liam punched the vampire as hard as he could in the ribs. The male reflexively dropped Cunningham, who fell to the floor clutching his neck. Liam sneered at the male vampire. It moved left, he moved right to match. They moved back and forth for a moment before the vampire paused and gave Liam a comical look.

"Dude, you're supposed to let me walk by!" The vamp said indignantly.

Liam just blinked, feeling like he'd fallen into the Twilight Zone. "What?" He frowned, then smiled ferally. "Sorry, no can do."

The vamp snarled and swung drunkenly at Liam, who ducked under the fledgling's arm and drove the stake home. He glanced over at Kira. She ducked under a kick, then delivered one of her own. She punched the vamp, knocking him flat on his face. Taking the opportunity, she plunged the stake into its back and through its heart. It promptly turned to dust.

"Yes!" Kira pumped her fist into the air. "I did it!"

"Wonderful, Kira." James said with a wince as Liam helped him to stand. "But, perhaps we can focus on the matter at hand."

"James!" She exclaimed, worry taking over. She rushed to him. "Oh, God. How—?"

"Liam assisted me." James answered in an attempt to preserve what was left of his dignity.

Liam rolled his eyes. "More like saved your ass. But, hey, semantics, right?" He shifted his grip on James. "Kira, take the bandanna from your wrist and tie it tight around his neck. Hurry, he'll bleed out if you don't!"

Kira quickly did as she was told; double checking to make sure it was tight. She slipped James' other arm over her shoulder. "C'mon, let's get you to the hospital."

"That sounds marvelous." James said dreamily.

A

Liam had quickly decided that he hated hospitals. They smelled like sterile demons and horrible colds. The halls were rank with emotions, most of them unpleasant. His brief visit to the maternity ward had been the only happy place in the entire ten-story building. Here, in the emergency waiting room, emotions hung over people's heads like dark thunderclouds.

He felt like he was suffocating.

Liam took in as deep a breath as he dared, not wanting to breathe in any of the oppressive atmosphere. This place was unsettlingly familiar. He was getting used to his insides doing the cha-cha; after all, they had been doing it a lot lately. It had all started with that stupid picture of Angelus he'd drawn. Liam felt his jaw clench reflexively at the name. He _hated_ that name!

All it had done was bring him pain and confusion and a strange case of indigestion! He growled softly. Kira, who was sitting on his left, gave him an amused look but didn't comment. Liam chose to ignore her and keep on bro—thinking, keep on _thinking_. He massaged the tense muscles of his brow with his finger tips. God, what is with me lately, Liam thought bewildered; I keep getting weird looks and feeling emotions that aren't mine. What's wrong with me?

Before his thoughts could go any further, a shout caught Liam's attention. "Liam!"

Liam's eyes snapped over to the waiting room entrance. There, standing in the large arch/doorway, was Spike. He was wearing a black leather duster, Doc Martins, a black wife beater and too-tight black jeans. Liam had only seen him dressed like that when they were looking for Angel.

Liam gave a half-hearted wave as Spike stalked over. "Hi, Spike."

"What in the bleedin' hell were you thinkin'?" Spike demanded crossly.

Liam was suddenly glad there was only three other people in the waiting room with them. "It wasn't my idea!"

"Then what the bloody hell were you doin' in that alley?" Spike's voice was still raised and his stance was confrontational.

"Savin' her!" He pointed an angry finger at Kira. "And her stupid watcher!"

"Hey!" Kira objected with an indignant look on her face.

"She's a Slayer?" Spike's anger seemed to suddenly evaporate in the face of this discovery.

"Yes, I am, _Spike_." Kira answered snappishly.

Spike didn't even blink. "Know who I am then, luv?"

"Yeah, and so do I." Liam crossed his arms over his chest and regarded Spike calmly, giving nothing away in his expression.

This time, Spike seemed bothered. But, it wasn't because of Liam's statement. No, it was the way he was looking at Spike and the way he had folded his arms across his chest. Combine that, in Spike's mind, with the messy dark brown hair and intense brown eyes and Liam looked far to close to Angel for Spike's peace of mind.

"Oh, you do, then?" Spike's answer was slightly shaky.

"Yeah." Liam kept his face blank in the face of Spike's distress. "William."

Spike's blue eyes narrowed. "Ah, well, was bound to come out sometime, mate."

"I bet." Liam said blandly. "A little over a month and you don't think to obliquely mention it? I translated a book for you about this entire debacle."

"Your point, Skippy?" Spike snapped, having wrestled back his emotional equilibrium.

"I deserve to know." Liam said somewhat petulantly. "Especially after all those hours I put in translating _your _damn book. _That_ requires payment."

Spike seemed to think it over. "Guess that does." He shrugged flippantly. "Can give you $100."

"I don't want your money, Spike." Liam said tightly, his frustration coming to the fore. "I'm tired of being left in the dark without a light!"

"Miss Bensen?" The doctor said from the entrance to the waiting room.

"Yes?" Kira stood, her brown eyes reflecting her anxiousness.

The doctor motioned for her to come closer. Spike and Liam followed. They gathered in a semi-circle in front of the doctor in the entryway. Kira shifted from foot to foot nervously waiting for the doctor to deliver the news.

"Well?" Spike asked impatiently.

"He's going to live." The doctor answered with a reassuring smile. "Between the pressure bandage on his neck and your quick thinking, he'll be back on his feet in no time. The two of you saved his life."

"Angel Investigations, we help the helpless." Liam answered with a small smile. He froze. Where the hell did that come from?

Spike gave Liam a shocked look, but decided to wait to comment.

"You run a PI business?" the doctor asked with a smile. It faded when he noticed Spike and Liam's discomfort. "Sorry, too personal. Your friend is in room 215." The doctor nodded, then walked off.

Liam gulped. That number meant something. When the doctor was sufficiently out of earshot, Liam turned to Spike. It was time to get answers.

"Spike?" Liam asked the man.

Spike blinked up from his perusal of the floor. "What?"

"Angel Investigations?" Kira prompted him, curious as well.

"Kira, go to Cunningham." Liam gave her a significant look. "He's probably worryin' himself into a coronary."

Kira sighed and rubbed her forehead. "Yeah, you're probably right." She jabbed a finger in Liam's chest. "You better tell me!"

"I will!" Liam held his hands up in a gesture of surrender.

Kira gave him one last look before walking down the hallway to her watcher's room. Liam watched her go for a long moment before turning his gaze back to Spike. The blond had his arms crossed tightly over his chest and his hands shoved up under his armpits. His duster was wrapped around him like a shield.

"Angel Investigations." Spike said in a detached tone. "'S what Peaches called his little band of heroes." Spike's shuttered blue eyes locked onto Liam's brown ones. "How did you know that name?"

"It was like the picture." Liam answered, knowing full well Spike didn't want to hear that. Sometimes, the truth hurts, Liam thought sorrowfully. "I just knew it, Spike. I just said it, it wasn't on purpose."

"That," Spike paused for emphasis, "I have a hard time believin'."

"Why?" Liam asked, baffled.

"Because," Spike's eyes flashed dangerously, "you can't have known that unless someone told you. Who sent you to hurt me, Liam? Who sent me a poor copy of my sire?"

"What?" Liam gasped his brow crinkling. "I-I don't understand-"

"The hell you don't!" Spike shouted. The complete silence in the hallway was deafening. "No one left alive knows these things, and anyone who would, would have to be associated with Wolfram and Hart!"

"I'm not part of Hell, Inc.!" Liam shouted back, getting angry. The night's events were finally catching up to him. "I don't go around futzin' with people's personal lives just to bring about the apocalypse!"

"There you go again!" Spike exclaimed, gesturing wildly. "Normal people don't know that little _tid-bit_ of information!"

Liam stood, dumbstruck. "How the hell do I know that?"

"Don't try that with me!" Spike accused harshly. "I know the game you're playin', Skippy, don't even try it!"

"It's not a game, Spike!" Liam pushed his open button down shirt back and rested his hands on his hips in a familiar way.

Spike sucked in a breath. "Stop it! Just stop it! Stop actin' like him!"

"Actin' like who, Spike?" Liam said tiredly. He rolled his eyes. "Get a grip."

"You get a grip!" Spike snapped back. "I'm not just some puppet you can yank anywhere you want!"

"No, as I recall, that was me!" Liam shot back heatedly, his hands still on his hips, a familiar glare in his eyes. "God, you are so juvenile."

"You were never a bleedin' puppet!" Spike cried desperately. He was sick of this insanity, dammit!

"What?" Liam's head jerked. He gave Spike a weird look. "I think you've lost it, Spike."

Spike's righteous anger was abruptly derailed. "What? You just said you had been a bloody puppet, you stupid ponce!"

"No, I didn't!" Liam argued back, crossing his arms over his chest. A feeling of irritation at the word puppet wasn't helping his state of mind, though.

"Did too!" Spike argued childishly.

"Did not!" Liam said just as childishly. He let out a put upon sigh and ran a hand through his hair and rested the other on his hip again. He gestured with his free hand in the air by his head. "I'm not arguin' with you about this, Spike."

Spike jerked his head in an attempt to clear it. "I said stop doin' that!"

"Doin' what?" Liam demanded, gesturing in the air with both hands. "I don't know what you're goin' on about, Spike!"

"Fine, then, dammit!" Spike threw up his hands in surrender. "Bloody hell, I give up!"

"Fine!" Liam snapped, crossing his arms again.

"Fine!" Spike snapped right back.

Liam gave a disgusted snort, turned on his heel, and stalked towards Cunningham's room. To hell with Spike and his immature psychosis! He didn't have to argue with the annoying man. That had been almost as bad as the whole "Cavemen vs. Astronauts" debacle.

"Ah!" Liam half-growled, half-shouted in frustration at his thoughts. He turned his face to the ceiling. "Stop screwin' with my life, dammit!"

Spike just watched the familiar scene with wide, shocked eyes.

* * *

I know, I know, it's obvious, but I don't care, it's supposed to be, sort of. Anyway, review and tell me if you like it, hate it, or just don't care! 


	3. If I Knew That, Would I Be Askin' You?

Well, here's chappie number three. Hope ya like it. Read, enjoy, then review!

* * *

A

Spike slammed the apartment door shut behind himself. Liam had opted to get a ride home with Kira. He shrugged out of his duster and set the keys on the small foyer table. He wearily shuffled into the living room then collapsed onto the couch. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees and his head in his hands.

What the bloody hell was he supposed to do? Was the kid messing with him or was it something…more? Did something of Wolfram and Hart survive Angel's purge? Well, something in LA at any rate. Spike was sure the Italy office was still alive and kickin'. His stomach flopped at the thought. Cor, he developed Peaches' feelings for those damn lawyers when he'd sworn he never would!

He growled in the back of his throat and pushed up off his seat. That was it! He was going to get to the bottom of this bloody kid and he was going to do it now! He grabbed his keys, duster, then slammed the door closed behind himself. He'd had it up to here with the Powers That Bugger You!

A

Liam slipped quietly into James Cunningham's hospital room. Kira and the watcher were in discussion about something and didn't notice his entrance. He found the darkest corner and leaned against the darkest wall. Cunningham was dressed in a hospital gown and not his stuffy professor clothes. There was an IV bag full of blood hanging on the left side of the bed.

His neck was swathed in white bandages and he was clearly exhausted. Liam had a brief feeling of sympathy, but it didn't last long. It was Cunningham's own fault that he'd gotten bitten. Some watcher. Everyone knows not to walk down dark, creepy alleys at night!

"Well, I wouldn't say that." Kira replied with a small smile. "I think you're a perfectly good watcher, James."

"I led us into a dark alley at night, Kira!" Cunningham's cultured British tones pleaded. "Every watcher knows never to do that unless necessary!"

"Yeah, but I'm the Slayer." It was clear this was starting to go to Kira's head.

"You didn't save him." Liam decided it was time to bring her down to earth. "I did. He would be dead now if I hadn't been there."

"He wouldn't have been in the alley if you hadn't waited so long to come over to my house!" Kira argued, feeling insulted.

"I wouldn't have been at your house if you hadn't asked me there." Liam said calmly. This is a two-player game, sweetheart, he thought.

"Well, I wouldn't have-" Kira stopped short, not knowing what else to say. She frowned, then tried to switch the topic. "So, what did Spike say?"

"Forget about that." Liam's voice was tight with agitation. "What you need to understand, Kira, is that you aren't Wonder Woman. You're human. You get hurt, you bleed and you can die. This was your first fight, wasn't it?"

"Yes!" She crowed, still not getting it. "Dusted that vampire but good, don'tcha think?"

"No, I don't." Liam answered bluntly. "You aren't understanding me, Wesley could have died!"

"Who's Wesley?" Kira asked her anger at being slighted put on the back burner.

Liam frowned. This time, he remembered saying it. He locked eyes with Kira. "I-I don't know. I just, I guess I just said it."

"I'm afraid I must object." Cunningham interjected. "Mr. Wyndham-Pryce is a disgrace to the business."

"Take that back!" Liam snarled menacingly. His brown eyes glowed with anger. "Wesley was a great man. You're the disgrace!"

"Hey!" Kira glared daggers at Liam. "_You_ take _that_ back!"

"And you're a head strong idiot!" Liam snapped at her. "You wanna die? Ignore me! I used to live in Sunnydale, I've seen real Slayers and you aren't one!"

"Oh, yeah?" It was Kira's turn to look threatening. "Wanna found out how good I really am?"

"I could kick your ass!" Liam growled. His fists clenched at his sides.

"I'd like to see you try, Scrawny!"

"Great, you better run little girl!"

"Oh, threats? How pathetic!"

"Yours aren't any better, bean pole!"

"Come here you little urchin so I can-"

"Sit on a baseball bat!"

"Enough!" Cunningham shouted over the din of their argument. Kira and Liam froze, both of them regarding Cunningham with wide brown eyes. "That's quite enough from both of you. There will be no fighting unless it's with demons and/or vampires. Am I clear?"

"Yes." Kira answered softly, looking thoroughly chastised.

Liam simply relaxed his fists and tried to look contrite. He failed miserably.

"Good." Cunningham yawned. "Now, if you don't mind, I'm going to sleep."

A

Spike stepped over scattered broken pieces of wood. They would have made him nervous before. Now, they were just pieces of wood. He missed it some days. The quiet days when should have been able to hear the whole apartment complex going about its business. With life the way it was now, though, all he could hear was the next door neighbor's too-loud TV.

He sighed and stuffed his hands into his duster pockets. A stone archway appeared out of thin air and he just walked through. It had taken some doing, but he'd managed to find the Conduit. Supposedly, it was a link to the Powers, and right now; it was the only lead Spike possessed.

His human eyes could barely see in the dark, but he walked on, regardless. That was, until the ground suddenly was yanked out from under him. He screamed as he plummeted towards the bottom. Bloody hell! So this was how he was going to die? Falling to his death in search of answers, in search of the Great Bloody Ponce? Man was more trouble than he was worth!

Suddenly, Spike's body jerked to a painful halt. He groaned loudly. Sometimes, it royally sucked being human! Slowly, he pushed to his feet, moaning with pain. Nothing was broken, but his entire front was going to be one big bruise in the morning.

"Who is this?" Male and female voices whispered in an annoying echo. "Why is it here?"

Spike rubbed his ears. "Mind tonin' down on the whispers, maybe? Givin' me a headache already."

"We do not wish to speak with the insolent one." The whisper echo was louder this time. "Send it away. Send it away."

"Sorry, but 'm not leavin'." Spike insisted stubbornly. "A boy, Liam, is livin' with me. He's actin'…oddly. Actin' like a dead man, a lost man. Tell me who sent him; tell me why he's here."

"Insolent one, we shall not deign to answer your petty questions." Spike winced at the whispers. "Send it away. Send it away now, violently."

"No, no, no violence!" Spike said hurriedly, still feeling the pain from his abrupt landing. "Look, just need you to answer two little questions. Take five minutes out of your oh-so-busy day and help me, dammit!"

"We do not answer to demands, insolent one." The whispers where harsh with anger and Spike covered his ears.

"Well, at least you didn't say 'Send it away' this time." Spike muttered darkly. He let out a frustrated sigh. "Just tell me why Scrawny is here and who sent him. After that, I'll leave and never return."

"Sorry, they aren't too big with answers 'round here." An Irish brogue said from behind Spike.

The once-vampire whirled around to find a man about his height with blue eyes and black hair. "Who the bloody hell are you?"

"Doyle, Francis Doyle. But, you can call me Doyle." Doyle answered with a smirk. "I hate Francis."

"Oh, no," Spike pointed an accusing finger at Doyle, "already had one person sucker me into this whole 'I'm Doyle' thing. Not gonna happen again."

Doyle rolled his eyes. "'M the real thing, lad. And on that subject, how could you have believed Lindsey? Lindsey, of all people!"

"Well, it's not as if I knew what you looked like at the time!" Spike defended himself, angry the tables had been turned.

"Oh, and ya do now, do ya?" Doyle seemed hopeful and skeptical at the same time.

"Yeah, as a matter of fact." Spike answered indignantly. "Wasn't gonna let no one else fool me, that's for damn sure."

"Good, then listen to me!" Doyle insisted. "Liam, he isn't who he appears to be."

"What's that s'posed to mean, exactly?" Spike asked tersely, his arms tightening around himself.

"He's not really a fourteen year old child." Doyle replied seriously.

"Ah, now we're gettin' somewhere." Spike nodded. "Continue."

"He wasn't sent by your enemies either." Doyle answered to Spike's dismay.

"The hell he wasn't!" Spike protested, not entirely sure what he thought of _that _idea.

"He was sent by you." Doyle interrupted swiftly. There was a pregnant pause.

"What?" Spike bit out sharply.

"You made him." Doyle answered matter-of-factly. He began speaking before Spike could interrupt again. "When you performed the spell on that enchanted amulet, you made him."

"Wait a tick," Spike frowned, "are you sayin' the kid was the result, that the poof is gone?"

"Not in so many words-"

"Spell it out then-"

"-no." Doyle gave Spike a dirty look for his interruption. "The boy _is_ what's left of Angel."

Spike just stared at Doyle for a few long moments. "Li-Liam _is_ Angel?"

"Essentially, yes." Doyle replied with a shrug.

"That's why he was acting like the poof, because he _is_ the poof!" Spike exclaimed. He frowned. "What do you mean, 'essentially'?"

"Liam is all that's left of Angel. The soul is permanent. His memories may never return. They're most likely lost forever." Doyle said; regret coloring his tone and face. "'m sorry, Spike."

"Well," Spike said after a painful silence, "I s'pose that's better than nuthin', ain't it?" He sighed. "What do I tell him?"

"Nothin'." Doyle answered bluntly. "This is his second chance. He was always meant to have what you got; the Powers worked this out for him, Spike. Don't go screwin' it up."

A

_Two days later…_

Cunningham had been released from the hospital yesterday, and Kira was still cross with Liam. Though, Liam suspected this had more to do with the fact that he was right than anything else. Kira hated being wrong, hated it with a passion. It was even worse when her pride had been dented along with that.

Liam knew this, thus, he wasn't worried about her frosty attitude. She's get over it, after all. He sighed and continued to stare at his bedroom ceiling. Ever since he'd come home from Cunningham's room that first time, Spike had been acting weird. He actually seemed inclined to talk to Liam instead of just ignoring him.

Liam didn't get it. One minute, Spike was annoyingly indifferent, then the next all he wanted to do was talk and train. Liam tried to avoid the last option, seeing as he didn't want the former vampire to know how strong he really was. He didn't think Spike would be very receptive of that. Liam squeezed his eyes shut, then rapidly blinked to clear the blurriness.

Why wasn't his life simple anymore? How did he end up living with a Shanshu'ed vampire anyway? What fate god had he pissed off? Or pleased, as the case may be. Spike had taken him into his home and saved his life that sounded like fairly good luck to Liam. Even with all the strangeness, it was better than where he had been.

A roof over his head, food, clothes and a warm bed to sleep in was definitely worth all the oddities that came with rooming with Spike. If he were honest with himself, the strange stuff was the reason he stayed. He liked the insanity, need it, craved it. Life sitting still did nothing but drive him batty.

Though, this confused him, as he didn't remember ever sitting still and doing nothing. Liam sighed again. Those sorts of thoughts had begun to filter in with even more regularity. Frankly, it was scaring him. He was afraid of what it meant. Why did he have these thoughts, these feelings, that he couldn't remember afterward?

Lately, he'd started to remember the things he'd said. That whole argument with Spike and his verbal tussle with Kira were still fresh in his mind. He remembered the oblique reference to being a puppet, and the insistence that Wesley was a good man. Yeah, good, but slightly misguided, Liam thought with a shadow of bitterness.

"Ah, hell." He groused. "Somethin' _else_ to add to my growing collection. What's next, unrequited love?" He gasped and pressed his right hand to his chest. The pain from that thought was emotionally heart wrenching and tore at his soul. "Oh, God. Oh, God."

Liam let out a choked sob. He rolled onto his side, wrapped his arms around his middle and pulled his knees to his chest. Another sob forced its way through his lips.

"Cordy." He whimpered. A lone tear ran down his young face. "B-Buffy. Oh, God." He sobbed again and another tear followed the first. He squeezed his sorrowful brown eyes shut against the emotional heart surgery. It felt like someone was removing his insides with a plastic garden spade.

"No." He felt his arms tighten around his middle. "No, no, no, no, no! I didn't—she didn't—no!"

The door flew open with a crash, but Liam didn't so notice, too embroiled in his grief. Spike swallowed hard at the sight on the bed. He stood there staring for a long moment, unsure of what exactly he should do. This is Peaches, after all, he thought, I know he wouldn't appreciate it if I found him like this before.

Deciding to throw caution to the proverbial wind, Spike walked over to the bed and sat down behind Liam. Cautiously, he reached out and touched the distraught boy's shoulder. This is Angel; he reminded himself, help him! He gently squeezed Liam's shoulder in a pathetic attempt to offer comfort.

"Liam?" He whispered. He frowned in concentration. The boy was saying something.

"I didn't—no—only when dead. No! Not dead!" He panted out the words brokenly. "They died—she died. No! She can't be gone! She can't!" his rambling dissolved into heart wrenching sobs punctuated by a facsimile of words.

"Liam," Spike rubbed circles on Liam's back, "they aren't there. Liam, Liam, it's not really happenin'. You're home, safe, it's not real."

"It's real." Liam seemed strangely clear through the tears. "That's the problem, it's all real. I don't want it to be real."

"Then don't let it." Spike found himself saying before he could think it through.

Liam sobbed softly. He slowly rolled over. Haunted, intense brown eyes locked with Spike's blue ones. The grief, the heartache in the eyes was so familiar it made Spike's heart twist. This, staring back at him, was Angel. This was Angel with the full weight of his soul pressing in on him, strangling him in guilt, regret and self-hatred.

"Save me." He whispered desperately to Spike. "Please, Spike. _Please_. Save me. Kill me. Heal me. Save me, please. Oh, God…"

"I-I don't-" Spike stopped to fight his own tears. "-don't know how."

Liam choked back a sob. "Just don't let go."

Spike pulled Liam up to rest the teen's torso in his lap. "I won't." He vowed. "I swear to you, Angel, I'll never let go."

A

_One week later…_

Ever since his emotional breakdown, Liam had become strangely reserved. It was unusual for the teenager, but not for the man he used to be. Spike found the contrast astounding. Liam, before that day a week ago, had seemed like a balance between Angel and Angelus when Spike looked on him with the fine eyes of hindsight.

Now though, nearly all traces of Angelus had been buried under Angel. Spike found himself missing the witty, smart mouthed, sarcastic, playful teen that had been there a week ago. All Liam did was go to school, come home, draw, then start the cycle all over again. Spike couldn't even get him to go patrolling, something Angel liked to do when he was upset.

No, the boy Angel was just depressed. Liam had locked himself away in his mind and showed no inclination of leaving it. He'd thought before that he'd wanted Angel back. Now, he found himself wishing Liam would just get back to normal. If the kid was Angel, then he wanted him to act like Liam, not the depressed man who was CEO of Wolfram and Hart.

Liam was actually fun to be around, even if he tended to run his mouth a lot. Spike though, figured it was a sign of a happy kid, wanting to spill everything that had happened during the day. He missed the ramble, the rage against the idiotic teachers and air-headed peers.

He liked it when Liam turned his modern rock ballads up as loud as his ears could stand it. Strangely though, Liam did not like the TV. He hated the news channels and often cursed rather colorfully, in several languages, at the TV when it was on. Spike liked to turn the TV on just to see what he would do. Nothing had been thrown through it yet, but Liam had picked up a book, cocked his arm back, and then just froze. The boy had set the book down and stalked off instead of hurling the hard-backed object at the noise box.

Spike sighed and pushed up from the couch. He walked to Liam's door and turned the handle. It was locked. He rolled his eyes and pushed on the door. It didn't even move in the lock. Spike let out an aggravated sign.

"Wonderful. He's put a chair under the door." Spike banged loudly on the door. "Liam! Open the door." Spike listened for a moment but didn't hear anything. "Chair or no chair, I'll get into this room. Open. The. Door. Liam!"

A soft rustling greeted his ears, followed by a loud scraping sound. The chair had been removed. A soft click said Liam had also unlocked the door. Spike took in a deep breath, squared his shoulders, then prayed for patience. He grasped the handle and slowly opened the door.

He peeked his head around it, then froze. Littered all over the floor and every flat surface in the room, were pictures. Spike stepped cautiously into the room, leaving the door three-quarters of the way open. Liam was sitting on the bed, feverishly working on yet another picture.

Some of the scenes depicted in them were familiar; he recognized most of the people too. His own face had been rendered several times, along with Dru's, Darla's and even the Master's. Spike felt his lips curl in a snarl at the image of the Master. He shook off the anger and stepped on pockets of carpet to Liam's bed.

"Li?" He called softly from the foot of the bed.

The boy's head snapped up, his brown eyes were glassy. "What, Will?"

Spike held in a wince. Damn, he was remembering. Hopefully, he wouldn't remember anymore than this. "Don't want anythin', Li. Just wanted to talk, s'all."

"So, talk." Liam went back to his picture.

Spike craned his neck to see what the boy was working on now. He frowned. It looked like the Hyperion, only, all of the people were wrong. It was a crowed lobby and all the clothes were outdated. A light went off in Spike's mind.

"Oh, that's your poncy hotel in the fifties." Spike said before he thought. He winced. "Angel's, _Angel's_ hotel in the fifties."

"Yeah, so?" Liam's answer was distant.

"Just makin' conversation." Spike held up his hands briefly. "No need to get snippy."

"I'm not snippy." Liam denied on autopilot.

Spike smirked and sat down on the bed, catty-corner to Liam. "Have news for you, mate. You're snippy."

"Am not." Liam roughly erased something. His eyes were still glued to the paper.

"Are too." Spike engaged the childish argument.

"Am not." Liam's reply sounded less distant than before.

"You so are." Spike upped the ante, seeing that his ploy had started to work. Angel had always liked to argue.

"Am so not." Liam smiled slightly, but kept on drawing. His eyes were less glassy.

"Oh, yes you are." Spike insisted, a smirk coming to his lips.

Liam looked up from the paper. "I am not snippy!" He gave Spike a glare. "_You_ are difficult!"

"That I am, pet, that I am." Spike patted Liam's shoulder. He took the pencil and paper gently from the boy. "C'mon, Li, let's go out and kill somethin'."

Liam gave him a small smile. "Yeah, okay."

A

Kira sighed and switched her stake to her other hand. The sun had set thirty minutes ago, but she hadn't run across a single "big 'n nasty". Frankly, she was bored. And itching to kill something. Cunningham had healed enough to come with her, but he'd begged off, the memory of last time still fresh in his mind. Kira had a slightly different view of the memory, which was why she was out patrolling. The feeling of killing that vampire had spun in her mind all week. She couldn't banish it, couldn't make it leave her alone.

She rolled her eyes at herself. Why was she thinking about this? Liam must have rubbed off on her, what with all his brooding. Stupid, annoying Liam, who had the nerve to blame her for Cunningham getting attacked. What did he know, anyway? He wasn't the Slayer. Though, he'd punched that vamp pretty far…

Kira let out a frustrated noise. He was just Liam. Normal, human, average. He was wrong. She was the Slayer, she was better than him. At Slaying, anyway. Liam was smarter than the entire school put together. He always had the answer for that type of thing. But, he needed to learn that Slaying was _her_ thing. _She_ knew more than _him_ about this type of thing.

So what if he knew what the whole "Shipshan" thing was. Cunningham knew stuff like that and he was normal. Slightly, frustratingly British normal, but still normal nonetheless. Her hand flexed around the stake. There was something here on the street, following her. Slayer instincts kicked in and she dropped to a light defensive stance and crept along the dark sidewalk. The streetlamps had long since burned out and no one had thought to replace them.

A rustle sounded to her right and back. She spun to face it and was met with empty sidewalk. So, the joker wanted to play, then? She waited, heart rate quick and eyes straining to see in the darkness. She frowned and waited several long moments before relaxing her stance.

Hands grabbed her shoulders. "Ah!" she shrieked and whirled around, stake held high. She stopped when she caught sight of her attackers face.

"Hi."

"Liam!" She thumped him hard on the shoulders with both hands.

He winced and flinched back. "Geez, no need to hit me like a Slayer."

"I ought to stake you right here! That or beat you to a bloody pulp!" She shouted at him, face flushed and chest heaving.

"I can still kick your ass, ya know." He gave her a weak smile.

"Liam?" Her question was softer than her earlier words. "Are you okay?"

"No, but I will be." He answered, his voice soft but steady. "I just, I needed to talk to you." He sighed, shifted his weight and crossed his arms over his chest. "I needed to say sorry for what I said at the hospital. It was rude and came out totally wrong. I'm sorry."

"I-" Kira frowned, not sure what to say. "I forgive you. I mean, what else do you want me to say?"

Liam knew the question was rhetorical, but he answered it anyway. "I want you to pay more attention to your surroundings when you fight, Kira. If you had been watchin' like I was you could have saved him."

"Why didn't you step in?" Kira demanded, affronted.

"Because I couldn't. I was tied up with the leader. She was at least twenty, if not more." Liam replied, defensively.

"She looked more like thirty to me." Kira observed, not quite appeased yet.

"No, I meant twenty years as a vampire!" Liam exclaimed in frustration. He rolled his eyes. "When someone is turned, you count from then and disregard the human years. They're dead, no longer human."

"Well, that's an interesting fun fact." Kira said sarcastically. She tossed her hair back and set a hand on her hip.

"It's vital." Liam replied, unfazed by her sarcasm. "The older the vampire, the stronger they are. You need to be able to recognize this, Kira. "

"What, discretion is the better part of valor and all that crap?" Kira replied with derision.

"'xactly, luv."

Kira screamed and whirled around again to see a man she'd only seen once before. She gave him a fake smile. He voice was still shaky from Liam's earlier surprise. "Spike. Hi."

"Hullo." He said completely unperturbed by Kira's outburst. He peered around her to look at Liam. "Found a nest two streets over. Feel up to it?"

"Is that what I think it is?" Kira asked, her face scrunched up in disgust. "Ew!"

Liam rolled his eyes at her. His haunted, brown orbs locked with Spike's blue ones. "Yeah, I feel up to it."

"Good." Spike grinned, then started back the way he came.

Liam followed, Kira trailing behind him. They walked on the dark streets; the only sound was Kira's footfalls. Liam tuned his hearing up, listening for the sound of a watch or movement. He pulled a stake from his pocket.

Liam was glad he always wore oversized long-sleeved shirts. He had two more stakes strapped to his wrists. His pants were light-colored blue jeans with charcoal, pencil and grass stains covering them, as well as being fashionably torn in a few places. His shoes were black suede leather Adio skateboard shoes. Spike had found them brand new in a garage sale.

His stake was an old broom handle that had been whittled to a perfect point. He'd wrapped duct-tape at the top to form a cushioned grip. All in all, he presented a very homemade image.

"Hear anythin'?" Spike hissed as Liam moved to walk beside him.

"Nuthin' yet." He hissed back. "How much further?"

"Just 'round this corner." Spike replied in a harsh whisper.

"Great." Kira hissed at them. "We're just gonna walk in there and then what?"

"Kill 'em." Liam answered offhandedly.

"That's your plan" Kira demanded in a harsh stage whisper.

"Yeah." Spike shrugged nonchalantly. They came upon an old dilapidated apartment complex. Graffiti covered the first level wall. "This is it."

"You know what floor they're on?" Liam asked quietly.

"Basement, where the utilities are." Spike answered back just as quietly.

"They went for the cliché, then?" Liam said rhetorically.

He and Spike shared a grin, then ran towards the apartment.

A

It took them two hours to clean out the nest. Liam had a gash above his left eye that was dripping into his ear. He was fairly sure he sprained his right knee and broke two fingers. Spike had a slice across his chest and a slight limp, but was otherwise alright. Kira had only sustained a sprained wrist and a mild case of shock. She was shaking.

"Kira?" Liam limped over and settled himself on a stack of crates next to her. He laid a hand on her arm. "You okay?"

"M-Maybe." She wrapped her arms around herself, dislodging Liam's hand. "Geez, you-you were right, Liam. I have no idea what I'm doing."

"Well, not yet anyway." Spike interjected. He sneezed on all the dust floating around. "I hate allergies!"

Liam stifled a chuckle. "I wouldn't know."

Kira sneezed loudly and it echoed around the basement. She gave a nervous chuckle. "Ahchoo?"

"Gesundhiet." Spike remarked dryly.

Liam laughed, then clutched his ribs. "Ah, crap. Think I bruised somethin'."

"Didn't we all?" Spike muttered rhetorically.

Liam pushed to his feet from his spot on the box. "Yeah. C'mon, we should head home."

"Yeah," Kira agreed shakily, "I don't want to run into anymore nasties."

"Me either." Liam endorsed vehemently.

They managed to motivate themselves to climb the stairs and walk out of the decaying building. It was two blocks back to the apartment and five back to Kira's house. They turned down a side street then came back out on the main street across from an old building. The street was quiet and empty, the yellow glow of the streetlights uninterrupted by people. A lone car drove by, but no one paid it any heed.

The old building across the street seemed to loom over the road and sidewalk like a giant, tortured specter. There were cracks from an earthquake running up the stone pillars on either side of the front gate. The wrought iron bars seemed as sturdy as the day they had first been installed. Vines grew up from the cracks between the pillars and the walkway, wrapping themselves around the stone like a living shield.

Liam stopped short on the sidewalk and Spike nearly walked into him.

"Oi! Liam!" Spike exclaimed as he set his hands on Liam's shoulders to keep from toppling over.

"Sorry." Liam mumbled absently, eyes fixed on the building.

"What's got you tied in Celtic knots?" Kira asked walking around Liam and Spike to stand on the sidewalk next to Liam. "Wow. Old hotel."

"Old hotel?" Spike echoed, suspicion curling like icy tendrils in his gut.

"Yeah, the Hyperion. It was officially closed down in seventy-three." Kira answered lightly. Spike gave her an incredulous look. "What? I went through a haunted house phase; this was at the top of the list."

"She said it was creepy." Liam said in a daze.

"Who said it was creepy?" Spike inquired carefully, not really wanting the answer. He knew what this hotel was, knew Liam's mind was trying to tell the boy something.

Liam didn't answer. Instead, he crossed the street and walked towards the grand hotel. Spike rolled his eyes and followed Liam. Kira stood there a moment, before sprinting to catch up. They stopped at the old iron gate. Liam reached out and reverently touched the blackened iron bars.

"Don't s'pose you brought the key, Peaches?" Spike queried, staring up at the fifth story. Most of the windows were boarded up.

"Don't need one." Liam yanked the padlock off the gate, removed the chain, then opened it. He walked into a courtyard that had been overrun with weeds.

The place gave off a strange sort of ethereal feel, like the fate of the world had been decided in this very place. The moonlight filtered in giving the plants a blue glow. The smell of jasmine flowers was prevalent and added a soothing quality. Liam felt a tinge in his heart at the name "Jasmine". That meant something, something big. He swallowed and walked past the old stone bench and up equally old and cracked stairs.

"Wow." Kira breathed. Her head was swiveling about every which way as she tried to take it all in at once.

"Yeah," Liam echoed, his voice still sounding daze-like. He walked the few steps to the double French doors and opened the one on the left. He smiled a bittersweet smile. "Lorne always came in through this door."

He stepped inside.

The furniture in the lobby was once again covered in heavy white canvass. There was dust lining every surface. The beautiful red marble of the walls had long since been obscured. It looked almost like it had four year ago, but it seemed more empty, more tragic now, than it had before. The only reason the place was deserted now, was greed.

Liam took in a sharp breath and walked to the middle of the lobby floor. He scuffed his toe along the dust covered marble to clean away a spot. A faded red line was stained into the floor, contrasting with the marble. A haunting echo of pain washed through him, lingering in his gut.

"We never could clean that off the floor." Liam's voice held the echo of his heartache. He smiled sadly.

"Clean what?" Spike asked softly. He cleared his own section of the floor and frowned. "A pentagram?"

"What's a red pentagram doing on the floor?" Kira inquired, her voice tight with anxiety.

"Doesn't matter." Spike quickly interjected. He turned to Liam. He needed to get the boy out of this place, now. "We should go, Scrawny."

"Why?" Liam frowned in absent thought. He walked past the reception desk and into the office behind it. His bittersweet smile returned. "This was Wesley's. I gave it to him after I came back."

"We _really_ need to go, Peaches." Spike insisted, urgency bleeding into his voice.

"Why?" Liam looked around the office, shadows shifting and swirling in his eyes. His gaze stopped roving around the room and settled on the far right corner.

His brows drew together in concentration as he walked over to the corner. He bent down and pried up a broken piece of marble. There, buried under the floor, was a metal box. Carefully, Liam reached down and retrieved it. He broke the lock and opened it while Kira and Spike watched on, one with worry and the other with confusion and awe. Liam lifted the lid. Inside were pictures taken from a camera.

There was a woman and a baby in most of the pictures. In others, there was a black man, a blue-eyed man with glasses, a skinny curly brown haired woman and a green demon in a colorful suit with red horns on his head. There was an unsealed letter at the bottom, along with a roll of cash.

It was a safe box, a back up plan.

Liam set the pictures back gently and fingered the letter. After a long moment, he pulled it out and opened it.

"_Right,_" it started, "_If I end up reading this letter then Wolfram and Hart has reneged on our deal and taken my memories too. _

"_Do not forget Connor!_" This was underlined and circled. "_He's your son. Look at the pictures. This was your life before WRH took it, Angel, if that's who you are anymore. Hell, I'm writing a letter to myself and I don't even know._

"_That doesn't matter now though, does it? Darla was his mother; she shared his soul and loved him with everything she had. She died so he could live. He grew up in Quor'toth, a hell dimension worse then all the rest._

"_He came back as a teenager, but I never managed to get a picture. Connor hated cameras. No matter how angry he was, or is, as the case maybe, you have to love him anyway. He's yours. Don't loose him too. Don't add him to your long, long list of failures._"

The letter was simply signed, "_Angel_."

Liam wiped at the tears forming in the corners of his eyes. He handed Spike the letter without a sound. He swallowed. "I found a piece, Spike. I found a clue."

"Oh, my God." Kira breathed when she spotted the signature. "That's the same signature as the Shanshu prophecy!"

Spike's head snapped around to Kira. "Say what?"

"Angel signed his right to the Shanshu away. Liam thought it was done for you." Kira informed him solemnly.

Spike turned to Liam who had stood from his painful crouch, box in hand. "Why did he sign it away? How?"

"Two candidates throws the universe outta whack. He signed it so you didn't have too." Liam answered with a slight wince as his abused knee throbbed. Something in his mind told him that wasn't the whole of the Shanshu, however.

"Why the bloody hell would he do that?" Spike demanded, raising his voice.

"Because you won!" Liam shouted, his fists clenching. "You won. You wanted it more. Why make you give that up? Why endanger the world in the process?"

"Endanger the world?" Kira asked for a stunned Spike.

"They wanted proof he no longer wanted to be human, that he was no longer a champion." Liam replied sadly, clutching the box to his chest.

"Bugger it all!" Spike violently kicked a chair over and it clattered loudly against the wall. "Stupid poncy bastard! What in the bleedin' hell made him think that was a good idea? Idiotic pillock."

"I don't agree." Kira argued. "He did it to save the world, didn't he? Whatever group he infiltrated, he killed them, right? So why was what he did stupid?"

"Because!" Spike insisted strongly. "It was what he fought for. He gave up his reason. He wanted to quit. To die."

"No." Liam's soft statement stopped Kira's reply. "No, he lost that hope when he lost the Cup. He didn't fight for his humanity anymore, didn't want it either. He fought because he could. He fought for his right to choose that fight. All he had left was that choice."

"Damn poncy git." Spike cursed. It was odd, for him to here Liam talking about himself in the third person. Spike sighed heavily. "Look, we found that box. Time to go, kiddies."

"Yeah," Liam agreed with a world weary sigh. He took the letter gently from Spike and put it in the box, "it is."

* * *

End of chapter three. Please give author feedback, whether it be good, horrible or expressing the fact that you don't care.


	4. The Heart Remembers

Sorry I didn't post this chapter yesterday, it wasn't my fault. Honest! kept timing out the upload, but here is chappie four. Read, enjoy, review!

* * *

A

_Three days later…_

If they'd had a mantle at the apartment, that's where the pictures would have ended up. Liam had given the letter to Spike, knowing Angel had been his friend. Liam, though, had another motive besides generosity. The words caused anguish so pure he fought tears every time he looked at it. It was as if he was feeling the emotions from when it had been written.

He'd gone back to school with even less patience with the teachers than before. Now, it was more than just random flashes of information. He had images of history in his mind that didn't make sense. He would swear in front of a judge that he'd been there through everything from the seventeen-hundreds and on.

It scared him, yet it also exhilarated him. He knew things no one else in his school knew. He was always correcting Mr. Trent's Latin, much to his teacher's frustration. Liam found though, that making their lives difficult helped the emotions inside of himself to work themselves out, leaving less pain. He knew it wasn't fair, but they _were_ wrong. He guessed he could be a little nicer about it, but that really didn't matter anymore.

The depression had left him, and in its wake came anger. He was angry, confused and hated the flashes of things that weren't his. They were the source of this mess, he despised them. Yet, when he looked at the pictures, he couldn't help but smile.

The feelings of fondness, friendship, love even, weren't all bad, he supposed. He just wished they were his, wished he felt that way about Kira and Josh. They were his friends now. Kira and he shared a secret and Josh had no idea. Liam knew he'd feel guilty about that soon enough, once he worked through all of the other crap at any rate.

He sighed and began doodling on his math paper. Math was his weakest subject, but he understood ninety-five percent of what the teacher, Mrs. Gorrin, said, so he wasn't too worried about not paying attention. Besides, she liked him. Nothing she said was wrong. Though, Liam thought, it's hard to be wrong in something like math and still come up with the correct answer.

Something was coming.

Liam whirled around and snatched a paper wad out of the air. The idiot who had thrown it at him was just staring at him with wide eyes. Liam rolled his own eyes and turned back around only to whirl back and catch another paper wad. This one, from the jock who hated his guts.

"Liam." The math teacher called.

Liam turned back around in his chair with a foul look in the jock's direction. "Yeah, Mrs. Gorrin?"

"Are you going to throw those?"

Liam glanced at the paper wads in his hands. "Uh, no. I had them thrown at me."

"You should have seen it, Mrs. G!" Josh enthused. "It was all Matrix-like. He just whirled around and snatched 'em out of the air!"

Mrs. Gorrin glared at the jock. "Mr. Hops, please refrain from firing projectiles in my class." She promptly went back to her lesson.

Josh gave Liam a thumbs up. "Nice."

Liam just smirked and focused his attention back to Mrs. Gorrin. He needed to pass the text test with flying colors after all.

A

Spike walked up the concrete drive to the school's entrance. He needed to retrieve the poof from his classes. There had been a rash of killings, two today and three yesterday. He needed Liam to help with the demon before it killed anyone else.

He walked down the long maze of hallways until he found Liam's math class. He looked through the small window in the door just in time to see Liam move faster than the eye could see and snatch a paper ball out of the air. Spike frowned in confusion. He'd thought Liam had been slightly stronger than average, but this was far more than adrenaline. This was something _else_ left over from who he used to be.

Spike knew vampiric speed when he saw it. Suddenly, Liam moved again, snatching another projectile from the air. Spike located the source. A boy, a little older and bigger than scrawny Liam. He was glaring daggers at the boy Angel.

Liam and the teacher bantered back and forth for a moment. Spike opened the door and stepped in after they were done. He surveyed the class for a few seconds, eyes lingering on the jock, before getting the teacher's attention.

He cleared his throat loudly. "'cuse me. Need to borrow Liam for the rest of the day."

Liam turned in his seat to verify it was Spike, then grinned and started gathering up his stuff.

"Who might you be?" Mrs. Gorrin inquired politely.

"Spike. His legal guardian." Spike answered with a nod of his head, trying to look knowledgeable and not awkward like he felt.

"Oh, very well then." Mrs. Gorrin turned to Liam, who was standing at his desk, bags packed. "You may go."

He raced over to Spike, throwing a brief goodbye wave towards a stunned Josh. Spike held the door open for Liam, the closed it behind them. They set off at a brisk pace down the hallway.

"What's goin' on?" Liam asked, concern coloring his voice. "Did somethin' happen? Are Kira and Cunningham okay?"

"They're fine." Spike reassured him. "There's a demon loose. Killed two people today alone. Probably another one by now."

"What kind of demon?" Liam queried as the stepped out into the sunlight.

"Big, red, and smelly." Spike answered succinctly as they climbed into his junker car. "Been whackin' people in the warehouse district. That's where we're headed first."

"Sounds good to me." Liam buckled his seatbelt and Spike slammed his foot down on the gas petal.

A

The warehouse was dark, dusty and completely clichéd. Spike walked around the pockets of light, Liam following close. It always amazed Spike, the fact that Angel was following him around and not him following Angel. Spike found being in charge of a teenager a true test of his mettle, yet, he wouldn't trade the boy for the older version.

The kid was far more pleasant to be around, and Spike found it rather nice to be needed. Truthfully, though, he needed Liam just as much as the boy needed him. His time at Wolfram and Hart with Angel had taught him what heroism really was. It wasn't lights, glamour and fame. It was pain and self-sacrifice, with a great helping of satisfaction thrown in.

Spike ducked under a low I-beam and into a dark, open space with no light filtering in from the ceiling. This was the place. They'd followed a trail of five bodies to the warehouse, each with their livers removed, according to Liam. Spike knew Angel had a fair knowledge of anatomy, he was grateful for it then.

Liver eating meant it needed regular nutrients and would die within days if starved.

"It's here." Liam said in a low voice. "I can hear it, off to the left."

"Great." Spike groused sarcastically. "I hate liver eaters."

"You and me both." Liam muttered darkly. He froze, then swallowed hard. "I see it."

"Where?" Spike hissed urgently.

"Straight ahead." Liam whispered. He raised his favorite broadsword into attack position.

As they crept closer, Spike could make out the outline of the demon. It was tall, just a few inches over eight feet. Long, curved horns came from its head. Its red skin was littered with black cracks, and it had strange cloven feet. Spike got the impression of a volcano monster when he looked at it.

"Beast." Liam breathed in shock. "The Beast."

"What?" Spike hissed, but Liam ignored him.

"The only thing hard enough to penetrate its skin is itself." Liam said in a strange voice. He frowned in dazed confusion. "You mean killin' the beast really _does_ bring back the sun? I thought that was just Angel's retarded fantasy."

"Say what?" Spike gave up all pretenses of a whisper this time.

"We have to kill it." Liam said strongly. He raised his sword and charged at the red Beast look-a-like.

It roared, swung its arm in a block, and stopped Liam's sword with a harsh clang. The demon laughed mockingly and swung its other arm towards Liam. The boy jumped back, the blow whistling past him. Another clang was heard. Spike had used Liam as a distraction and had managed to put a chip in a horn.

The demon howled and swung wildly at Spike who just managed to duck. He felt the wind ruffle his hair from the speed of the attack. Liam struck out at the horn just as the demon's back turned. He put a bigger dent in it. It was obvious the demon wasn't nearly as strong as the Beast, but it was the most dangerous thing either of them had fought since Angel had used the amulet.

Liam took a hard kick to his stomach. He felt the air leave his lungs as he flew through the air and slid across the dusty concrete. He rolled over himself several times before coming to a stop. He rolled back over his head and onto his feet with the momentum. He stood up just in time to see Spike deliver the final, severing blow to the demon's horn, then go for a flight of his own.

"Spike!" Liam screamed. Terror seized his insides and ran them through a meat grinder.

He charged the demon, a feral scream ripped from his chest. He swung with impossible, inhuman strength at the demon's head. It put its arm up in a pathetic attempt to block the blow and Liam's sword connected harshly with its wrist. The demon howled in excruciating pain as its wrist was severed from its arm.

Liam bent down and picked up the horn with deliberate moves. The demon's red eyes went wide with fear. It knew it was about to die. Liam smiled maliciously at the demon, his eyes gleaming ferally in the dim light. He sneered and thrust the horn up through the demon's chin and into its brain. Liam twisted the horn brutally and watched with primal glee as the lights when out in the demon's eyes.

Liam let go of the horn and watched with cold eyes as the Beast-copy crumpled to the floor in a rocky heap.

"No one touches what's mine." He growled at the lifeless corpse.

Liam stood over the vacant heap for a moment before rushing over to Spike, who was shakily climbing to his feet. Liam reached out and helped the once-vampire to stand.

"You okay?" Liam asked, obviously worried.

"I-yeah." Spike answered haltingly, eyes fixed on the dead body of the demon. "You alight, Peaches?"

"Yeah," Liam sighed out as he sheathed his sword, "I am.

"Not so sure about that." Spike rebutted, remembering Liam's words after he had killed the demon. It had sounded like Angelus.

Liam spun around to glare at Spike, brown eyes flashing. "Well, get sure."

"Ha." Spike scoffed. "You aren't scary, Liam. Don't try that with me, I stood up to Angelus."

Liam snarled. "I don't care." He whirled back around and stalked off.

Spike sighed and rolled his eyes to the sky. "Now what?"

A

Liam stomped through the front door of the apartment, nearly slamming the door closed on Spike. What did Spike mean he wasn't fine? He was! He was _fine_ and that was the end of it. Liam made to chuck his sword at the couch and froze. His sword clattered to the floor. Two people were sitting there, both looking very uncomfortable.

The first was an older man with gray hair and a hairline that had receded pretty far back. He wore a tweed jacket with the same sort of pants and a striped shirt. There were brown loafers on his feet. The other was a woman in her mid-twenties. She had shoulder length blond hair and striking green eyes. Both of them looked world weary, though they tried to hide it. Liam simply stood there, gawking at them.

"What have I told you about slammin' doors on people?" Spike barked as he angrily stalked over to Liam. "Honestly-" He froze.

Spike stood rooted to the spot in shock for a long moment. He gave a saccharine smile. "Hello, Buffy. Giles."

"Spike." Giles greeted cordially. "Sorry for barging in, but there was no where to wait outside."

"Uh, yeah, sure." Spike sat down on the lazy boy while Liam still remained frozen. "What're you doin' here?"

"Word of Wolfram and Hart's defeat finally reached our ears." Once again Giles spoke for a strangely silent Buffy.

"Well, that's great, really, but-"

"Where did you get that?" Liam demanded out of nowhere. He stalked over and snatched a piece of paper from Buffy. "Who the hell do you think you are, that's mine! As in, _private_!"

"I-I'm sorry." Buffy said hurriedly. "I thought someone else had drawn it."

"Yeah, sorry toots, I'm the artist." Liam sneered.

"That's enough!" Spike barked at Liam, knowing what would happen if the boy kept going. "That's Buffy, not some random moron!"

"Buffy the Snooper?" Liam shot back sarcastically. He couldn't bring himself to understand how two people from his dreams and artwork could be in his living room. "Oh, no, wait, she's _the_ Slayer. No, not that either because one of my friends is a Slayer, too."

"What did I just say?" Spike growled dangerously.

Liam glared at him. Spike could see the approaching hysteria in his eyes. "I don't care! I'm fine, you think I'm not! You always think I'm not, William! Got news for you, you don't get to choose!"

"Yeah, I do." Spike stood up and walked over to Liam. The boy stood at his shoulders. "Get a grip or go to your room."

"This is impossible!" Liam exclaimed, voice cracking and hands fisting in his hair as he paced. Giles and Buffy watched on in wide-eyed silence. "I see them in dreams, but people are missin'. Why them and not everyone else? Why not Wes?"

Spike grabbed Liam by his bony shoulders. "Wes is gone, Liam. They're all gone. Only the Scoobies are left."

"Why, Spike?" Liam demanded softly, eyes shining with sorrow and tears that would never fall. "Why?"

"Price of heroism." Spike replied bitterly. "You know that."

"I gave up somethin' that I never would have." Liam answered in the absent manner Spike knew meant he was remembering. "It wasn't mine anyway. The universe was righted when you drank from the Cup. Fake or not, you were chosen by fate. Doyle had the wrong guy."

"What is he talking about?" Giles asked, watcher instincts kicking in.

"The Shanshu prophecy." Spike answered shortly, not wanting his attention to drift from Liam.

"I thought that was about Angel?" Buffy questioned, suspicion lighting her eyes.

"No." Liam answered. Intense brown eyes focused on Buffy, She gasped. She knew those eyes. "I thought it was. We all did. It was about Spike. He's human now."

"I-I-I that's un-unbelievable!" Giles exclaimed, stuttering in his excitement.

"Who are you?" Buffy asked Liam. Spike held in a wince. She knew.

"Liam." The boy answered, not sounding too sure.

"How about Angel?" Buffy questioned carefully as she stood.

Liam's head jerked. "No. No. I'm not him. Can't be."

"Buffy." Spike spoke warningly. "Leave him alone."

Her suspicion became confirmed in her mind and Giles'. "Angel? Do you know me?"

"Yes." Liam breathed. He shook his head. "No. No, I don't. I can't! If you're real, they're dead and it's my fault!"

"Buffy!" Spike sounded desperate this time. "Stop it! Please!"

"You stop!" Liam turned on Spike. "Stop lyin' to me!" He grabbed his hair again. "I'm not supposed to remember. I'm supposed to get my reward!" He looked up at the ceiling. "Lyin' two-timin' bastards! Why do you keep givin' me what I want then snatchin' it away?"

"Liam?" Spike called softly. He pulled the boy towards him and Liam latched on tightly.

"No." Liam choked out. "No. Not anymore. Why?"

"You remember?" Spike asked, regret coloring his voice. It wasn't supposed to happen like this!

"Angel?" This time it was Giles.

"Stop it!" Liam tore himself away from Spike to snarl at the watcher. "You want me to loose my chance, is that it?" Fiery eyes fell on Buffy. "You're supposed to love me, not ruin me." He let out a sob. "Oh, who am I kiddin'? Lovin' you ruins me."

"Angel. I'm sorry, I didn't-" Buffy tried to apologize, tears in her eyes.

"I know." Angel breathed, eyes fixed on the floor. "I was rememberin' already, it was only a matter of time."

"How did this happen?" Giles asked, confusion and concern obvious.

"The amulet." Spike answered despondently. "He used it and I freed him from it. Liam was the result."

"God." Angel sighed. He ran a hand through his hair. "I'm sorry, Spike. I really am."

"For what?" Spike asked harshly.

Angel looked him in the eyes. "I know what you lost. I lost it too." He sighed, then swallowed thickly. "Maybe—maybe we don't have to loose all of it. I mean, lets face it, I'm fourteen, can't really live alone like this. And…I don't really want too."

"Take what I can get, then." Spike's small smile was bittersweet.

"And give nothin' back." Angel smiled softly back. His smiled faded as he remembered their guests. He cleared his throat nervously. "Giles. Buffy. Uh, I don't really know what to-"

"It's okay." Buffy's smile was full of unshed tears. "You're alive, both of you. That-that's good enough for me at the moment. It's all I can handle, actually, but that isn't the point."

"I quite agree." Giles reflexively cleaned his glasses. "Everyone will be glad to-"

"You can't tell!" Spike and Angel chorused. Spike continued. "Don't tell them. If my enemies find out I'm human, that we're human-"

"Hey, I can take care of myself!" Angel protested, sounding more like Liam. "Besides, I still have some of my vampire traits, Spike, you don't."

"Don't rub it in." Spike said darkly.

Angel smirked. "Sure."

"I mean it, Scrawny!" Spike jabbed a finger in Angel's direction.

"I know." Angel smiled this time, some of his many shadows leaving his eyes for the moment.

"Well, I suppose we should be going." Giles announced as he gathered up his coat.

"Wait!" Angel called as they reached the door. He smiled sheepishly. "Stay for dinner at least?"

A

_Two weeks later…_

Spike had been patrolling even more than before lately. He took Angel with him every other night, as the boy had won the school argument. Spike had put his foot down though, on the "every night a week" thing. If Angel was going to insist on going to school, then the boy was going to get a good night's rest.

Angel wasn't really all that different than before, Spike had realized. He was less teenage flaky—he seemed more responsible—but other than that, there was no major changes. His eyes looked older, less young and his fighting technique had vastly improved. Spike was grateful for that benefit. It made fighting easier.

The rants about the teachers had increased. Spike thought it was funny. Angel's friendship with Kira had strengthened and Angel actually liked Cunningham. The watcher was very green, but between himself and Angel, James was actually getting good at his job. It was almost as if their lives were as they should be. They never would be though, because their friends were dead.

"Hey, Spike," Angel started as he walked through the door. He set his backpack on the couch.

"Yeah?" Spike changed the channel on the TV.

"I, uh, have an idea." Angel stuffed his hands into his pockets.

"For what?" Spike asked, only paying half attention.

"A job." Angel answered, still sounding nervous.

"What kind of job?" Spike's radar went off. He looked away from the TV to Angel.

"Uh, well-" Angel stopped, then sighed in frustration. "I'm just gonna say it. I want to start Angel Investigations up again."

"You what?" Spike demanded, stunned.

"This city still needs help." Angel defended quickly. "So, yeah, no visions, but that doesn't mean we just stop helping the helpless." He frowned in thought. "Doesn't mean I stop helping. It's what I am, Spike. I lost that at Wolfram and Hart, but now, I'm who I should be."

Spike thought it over for a moment. "Alright." He gave Angel an inquiring look. "It just us, or are we hirin'?"

"Hirin'."

* * *

Yippie, one more chapter to post and edit then I am done. If doesn't have anymore SNAFU's between now and four o'clock PM Monday, you will have chapter five. Thank you for reading. Feed author. Review!


	5. Starting Over with the New, Improved You

This is it, folks. Last chapter of From the Ashes of Yesterday. Read, enjoy, review!

* * *

A

Angel walked through Kira's front door and into her living room. The TV was on some teen Disney show that he didn't care for. Kira was on the couch with a bowl of popcorn and an old book. Angel had to stop himself from running over and snatching the book from her butter-slick fingers.

"Ah, Liam," James greeted. He had a few books under his arm, "you're here."

"Yeah." Angel put his hands in his black cargo pant's pockets. "What're you lookin' for? Somethin' happen I should know about?"

"Not especially." Cunningham answered evasively.

"Keep tryin', eventually, you'll learn how to lie." Angel said sarcastically. "What's goin' on?"

"A vamp came into town late last night." Kira answered nonchalantly. "Supposed to be an evil bitch. I just think she's schizo."

"Drusilla." Angel swore. "Dammit!" he barely stopped himself from kicking the couch.

"Liam?" Kira asked slowly.

"Angelus sired her, made her crazy. She left Spike for a chaos demon in Sunnyhell. Wolfram and Hart used her to re-turn Darla in an attempt to break Angel. She's a seer and she's dangerous." Angel answered them shortly. He leveled them both with an intense look. "Whatever you need to know about her, you ask me."

"Alright." Cunningham acknowledged with a brief nod. He thought about his first question for a moment. "Re-turn Darla?"

"After I—Angel," Angel winced at his slip, "killed Darla, Wolfram and Hart brought her back human to bring back Angelus. It has to do with the Shanshu. Like I said, complicated. Anyway, Angel tried to save her and Wolfram and Hart used Dru to turn Darla back into a vampire."

"Wow." Kira remarked flatly. She shook her head in disbelief. "I hate these people."

"I'll second that." Cunningham endorsed. "Bring back Angelus, what _were_ they thinking?

"I know that was rhetorical, but I have to answer." Kira interjected belligerently. "They must not have been thinking at all! Angelus would have killed them too, while he was at it."

"Yeah, he would've." Angel answered, remembering the Beast and Manners' wine cellar. "Did, actually." Angel shook himself out of his reverie. "So, Drusilla was the only reason for crackin' the books?"

"Not entirely." James answered regretfully. "There are rumors of a raising this Saturday night."

"Lemme guess," Angel started with a sigh, "Full moon, Kev'lack demons?"

"Yes, as a matter of fact." Cunningham seemed shocked. "Do you, by any chance, know how to kill one?"

"Yeah, of course." Angel answered, rocking back and forth on his heels. His mood seemed to lighten. "But first, I have a question."

"Question about what?" Kira asked, interested.

"Do you want a job?" Angel replied coyly, knowing full well Kira was looking for work.

"Yes!" She exclaimed quickly. "What's the job?"

"Angel Investigations." Angel answered with a small smile. "Spike and I want both of you to come work with us."

"Do you have an office?" Cunningham asked out of curiosity and interest.

"And business cards?" Kira inquired eagerly.

"Yes to the business cards, they're on order." Angel sighed, shadows dimming his eyes. "We have an office, too. The Hyperion."

"Haunted hotel?" Kira seemed even more excited. "I'm in! Hire me!"

"I'll give it a go." James answered. Strictly speaking, he didn't need a job in the traditional sense; the council paid him an allowance.

"Great!" Angel grinned widely. "You kill a Kev'lack demon by cutting off its left arm, then the head with a Sumerian axe."

"I believe we have one of those." James answered, getting back to business. Drusilla seemed to have been forgotten for the moment.

A

Angel walked silently through the front door and shut it quietly behind himself. The lights were off and the only source of illumination was the blue glow from the TV. That didn't mean Spike was home though, the Brit was constantly leaving the TV on. Angel walked soundlessly into the living room intending to turn off the noise box, only to find Spike slouched in his seat beer in one hand and buffalo wings on his lap.

"Spike?" Angel inquired carefully as he stepped into the room. He set his backpack down on the floor next to the lazy boy. "You okay? Tonight isn't game night, is it?"

"No, s'not." Spike answered with a slur. "I can feel her, Angel. She's here."

Angel didn't have to ask who _she_ was. "I know. Cunningham told me. He and Kira agreed to come work with us, by the way."

"Good." Spike took a sip of his beer. "What're we gonna do about her?"

"What do you wanna do?" Angel grabbed a beer and sat down next to Spike. He filched a buffalo wing.

"Dunno yet." Spike replied. He sounded depressed this time.

"One of those, cross-that-bridge-when-we-get-to-it moments?" Angel asked with a touch of sorrow. He took a sip of his beer.

"You aren't s'posed to drink that." Spike said, motioning with his beer at Angel.

"I'm two-hundred and fifty-two, Spike." Angel answered with an eye roll. "Think that meets the age requirements."

Spike shrugged in response. He sipped his beer. "Guess it does, then. Wanna get pissed?"

"Hell, yes." Angel agreed whole-heartedly.

A

_Next day…_

Angel scuffed his toe on the grass. He was outside in PE with Kira and Josh. Coach had them playing soccer and the teams were being chosen by the two biggest jocks in the school. Hops and his best buddy, Rick. They picked their friends first and now Angel, Josh and Kira were part of the other bunch. The semi-picked on bunch.

"Ally." Rick pointed to the girl.

Hops grinned mischievously. "Liam."

Angel rolled his eyes and walked over, arms crossed tight over his gym shirt. It was white-gray with a knight's helmet on the front in blue. He was glad he could wear black pants at least. It was bad enough to have his name written in fading ink on his shirt. The selection process went on for another five minutes. Miraculously, Kira and Josh were with him.

They pulled on the annoying mesh jerseys and walked out onto the field. Angel wanted to write whatever masochist thought of these jerseys and rip him a new one. He _hated_ them. They itched and bunched, and made him glad he was a scrawny kid. They'd never fit with his old muscle definition.

"Hey, squirt," Hops bumped Angel's shoulder hard, "try not to get flattened by anyone." He sneered. "That's my job."

"No, it isn't." Angel informed him with deadly calm. He looked the taller boy in the eyes. He pulled on his "Angelus mask" for a moment, eyes glinting maliciously. "It's my job to beat the livin' hell outta you, eunuch."

Hops just gawked at Angel as he sauntered away as if nothing had happened.

"Damn." Josh enthused. "You scared the shit outta him! How'd you do that?"

"Practice." Angel said flatly.

Couch blew the whistle and the soccer game began.

A

The Hyperion was dark as they walked through the doors. It was dusty, the furniture was covered with white canvass, and the air smelled of sorrow. Angel swallowed hard as he walked down the red carpeted steps and into the lobby. The dust was still smudged from their first visit to the hotel several weeks ago. The dull red of the pentagram was barely visible.

"Well, still cheery as ever." Spike said with false joviality.

"Quite." Cunningham remarked blandly. He ran his finger along the reception desk. "How long has this establishment been vacant?"

"Year and a half." Angel answered shortly. He walked over to the weapons cabinet and opened it. He removed his favorite broadsword. "It's still here."

"Well, yeah." Spike commented flippantly. "Vail's spell collapsed, of course it is."

"I know that!" Angel spun around and snarled. He took in a deep breath, still marveling at the fact he could. "Right. I still own this place. Paid it off last year. We can have it up and runnin' in no time."

"That does mean we move in, right?" Spike asked hopefully, liking the idea of not having to pay rent anymore.

"No more rent." Angel and Spike shared a grin.

A

_One week later…_

It had taken them a day to move all of the stuff from the apartment in, and another five days to clean the lobby and four rooms. Angel had set up his old office and bedroom and given Spike, Wes' office before Angel had left because of Darla.

Spike had quickly become attached to the old hotel once he'd heard the story behind it. Cunningham had looked green and it got even worse when Spike grinned at him. The blond took great pleasure in winding up Cunningham. Angel thought he used the man as a Giles substitute.

Angel walked down the last few stairs and into the lobby. If he closed his eyes, he could see everyone where they ought to be. But no one was, not anymore. Hadn't been since he'd taken the deal with Wolfram and Hart. He still couldn't decide if it had been a good decision. Although, the fact that all the people he cared about, save one, were dead was a pretty big con.

Spike was sitting on the reception desk, randomly opening and closing files. Angel hadn't realized they'd been in such a hurry that they'd left the case files behind. He wondered what pile meant what to Spike and if the other man had managed to figure out Cordy's filing system. Admittedly, she'd improved it over the years, but Wesley could never understand it. The only one who ever really did was Fred.

"What're you doin', Spike?" Angel asked as he hoisted himself up onto the desk in the only spot available.

"Lookin' at your 'help the helpless' campaign." Spike answered, nose buried in a file. "You went to Pylea?"

"Yeah." Angel simply nodded. He smiled in memory. "I got to walk in the sunlight."

"Ah, s'plains how you knew that when we went after the Tiny Texan." Spike said with a wry smile. He picked up another file. His eyes went wide as he looked up and over it at Angel. "You went up against the Scourge? You idiot, you could have been killed!"

"It's not like it was last week!" Angel hurried to defend himself. He grinned smugly. "I infiltrated them, too. They aren't so tough." His face clouded in a hurtful memory. "Their weapon was. It killed Doyle."

"'m sorry." Spike commiserated. He decided to leave out his meeting with Doyle. Angel didn't need any more ammo for the; you-didn't-tell-me-who-I-was!-fund.

"Doesn't matter now." Angel remarked bitterly. He picked up a file. "There's still gaps in my memory. Let's see if these will help."

"Well, if you need me to fill in anything before 1898, holler." Spike said teasingly as he dug into another file. He wasn't even sure why _he_ was reading them in the first place.

"Ah, no." Angel replied uncomfortably. "I can really go _without_ knowing all of that, thanks, Spike."

Spike just smirked. "Yeah, sure." Ten to one he asks me in a week, Spike thought, anal retentive wanker has to know everything.

"I know what you're thinkin', Spike." Angel said with annoyance. "But, I don't wanna ruin my second chance. I won't ask you about Angelus. All of the recent stuff is enough for me, really."

Spike nodded his head in agreement. "Alright, that I understand." He pointed to the file. "This I don't. Darla? Why?"

"She was human with a soul, Spike. I couldn't just leave her!" Angel exclaimed indignantly.

"You went through the Trials for her and won nothin'." Spike pointed out matter-of-factly.

"No, I won somethin'." Angel solemnly replied. "I won a life. I just didn't get it until nine months later."

"Connor?" Spike inquired softly with a hint of incredulity. "The kid was your reward? Hardly seems fair. He wasted his life."

"No, I wasted it." Angel replied with a heavy sigh. He slumped forward, resting his elbows in his knees. "I screwed up and Connor paid for it."

The guilt threw Spike. Liam had never acted quite like this. "No, from what I gather, it was Wolfram and Hart, Sahjahn and Wes. Not you."

"He was my son!" Angel snapped, his hands gesturing in the air for emphasis. "I killed him! Snapped his neck! Wolfram and Hart saved him and I damned him."

"Right. Fine. Whatever." Spike shot back bluntly. "If you're so broken up, take the bus to Stanford and visit the kid. He's fine. He's been saved. What more do you want, Angel? The past is done and can't be changed." A pause. "Most of the time, anyway."

Angel gave a humorless chuckle, remembering the Mohra demon and Buffy. "Yeah, most of the time."

Spike blinked and jerked his head. Angel and teenage mood swings. Dangerous, unpredictable and an often flammable mix, he decided.

A

_Three days later…_

It was five o'clock in the afternoon on Tuesday when the newly formed Angel Investigations received its first walk-in client. Kira and Angel had been sparring in the lobby to pass time, Spike had been glued to the telly and Cunningham had raided Wesley's old library of books.

The client was a man, young, around twenty five. He had blond hair and striking green eyes. Kira had gone all googly-eyes before Angel had whacked her on the back of her head. Now, they stood in the lobby, waiting for the man to speak.

"Right." Angel muttered slowly under his breath. He smiled at the man. "No, this isn't an after school club, its Angel Investigations. What can we do for you?"

"It's my cousin." The man said nervously after a moment.

"What about her Mr…?" Angel prompted when the man didn't continue. He stuck out his hand. "Name's Liam, by the way."

"Hal," the man answered as he shook Angel's hand, "Hal Lockley. Something has my cousin. She'd been acting weird for a few days and when I went over to her house three days ago, I saw a group of these things haul her away kicking and screaming." Hal took in a deep breath and held out a small, dirty, dog-eared, white card to Angel. "On the back, it says 'For Emergencies Only'. I figured this qualified."

Angel reached out and took the card, scarcely believing his ears and eyes. He hadn't seen Kate in nearly three years. "Your cousin, Kate Lockley, right?"

"Yeah, you do know her?" Hal seemed relieved.

"I used to." Angel answered cryptically. "Where does she live?"

"Middle of nowhere Utah." Hal said. He obviously didn't think highly of where his cousin chose to live. "That's why it took me three days to get here."

"Well, then," Spike sauntered over, "directions would be nice."

A

_Ten hours later…_

It took them awhile to book four plane tickets, but they finally had. Angel had missed his Wolfram and Hart jet sorely during the entire flight out to Utah. He had been to the state before, in the sixties. It still looked the same. They'd rented an SUV as Kira had complained about being squished into a sedan.

Angel had agreed after he'd heard her argument. Only James still objected, claiming that spending needlessly on creature comforts wasn't a very good use of one's money. Spike and Angel had promptly ignored him. The only reason they' taken Flaky the Watcher was to identify the demons and baby-sit Kira.

Kate lived along the Wasatch Front of Utah, thirty miles north of Salt Lake City. It wasn't the middle of nowhere like Hal had claimed, but it wasn't nearly as populated as LA. Kate's home was in a small city called Clinton, it was a new apartment complex within sight and walking distance of a Wal-Mart, Wallgreens, and an Albertsons.

Angel thought it was too busy to be right by the shopping centers. Spike thought it was convenient. They'd argued briefly before Kira had broken them up with a harsh word, or rather, words. Cunningham had pointed out that they had arrived at the apartment complex.

Angel stepped out of the car with teenage grace, which meant, he nearly fell when he touched the ground. He was still a klutz when he was older, he remembered, so he held no hope of growing out of it. He'd passed it onto Connor too, poor boy.

"Alright there, Peaches?" Spike called mockingly as they walked up the stairs to Kate's abode.

"Fine. Billy." Angel shot back, a mischievous smirk on his lips.

Spike glared at him. "Fine. No more comments from me." He paused. "For the moment."

When they reached Kate's door, it was readily apparent it had been kicked in. Angel and Spike shared a look before pushing the door the rest of the way open and walking inside. Kira and James shared their own look before following cautiously after them.

What they saw shocked them.

There had obviously been a fight in the apartment. Wooden splinters littered the floor, remains of an oak coffee table. The lazy boy had been shredded and the three-seat couch had been smashed in half. The ceramic lamps were shattered, picture frames splintered and papers and other detritus were everywhere. It looked like a sharp tornado had whirled through the room at mach twelve. In addition to the destruction, was a layer of blue goop dusting nearly every surface.

"Bloody hell!" Spike exclaimed in dark amazement as he surveyed the room. It had been utterly destroyed.

"Quite." Cunningham breathed, shock coloring his features.

"Day-um!" Kira meticulously navigated her way to the cracked breakfast bar. "They were looking _and_ destroying."

"Yeah." Angel reached down and picked up a picture frame covered in questionable blue goo. It dripped in a disgusting strand to the floor. Angel made a face. "Blue. Don't see that much."

"Demons aren't fond of shiny, happy colors." Spike remarked sarcastically, also picking his way through the demolished room.

"Or shiny, happy people." Angel muttered darkly, remembering exactly what Angelus had thought of Jasmine.

"Regardless, it narrows our search down." Cunningham informed them, using a six inch splinter of wood to inspect a pile of goop. "Whomever this woman is, she must have fought back. Effectively, at that."

"That's Kate for ya." Angel said wryly. He smiled softly, then winced as he remembered the whole "Penn" incident. He rubbed his stomach where her stake had pierced him. "I have first hand experience."

Spike snickered. "Poor you, Li."

Angel glared at him. "It was all Penn's fault."

"So _that's_ how the wanker died." Spike said, obviously looking pleased at his discovery. "When we find her, 'm gonna thank her."

"Don't think she'd appreciate the way you say 'Thank You', Spike." Angel commented wryly. He stood from his crouch, a piece of a symbol in his left hand. "I found the only clue we're gonna get."

"That's a fair assessment." James said as he gently took the blue goo covered piece from Angel. "I believe I can identify her attackers with this."

"Great." Kira announced sarcastically as she picked her way through the mess that was Kate's apartment. "Does that mean we can get outta here?"

A

The hotel rooms were small, but no one really cared about that at the moment. There were books scattered on every available surface. Angel and Kira were sitting on one of the beds, necks cramping as they looked down at their respective books. Angel had a book on demon crests out, but it was slow going as he had to check every picture and description.

He sighed and leaned back, interlocking his hands behind his head. This was getting them closer and closer to nowhere. He uncrossed his legs and stretched out on the bed. This ceiling wasn't nearly as interesting as the one in the Hyperion. Cordy and Wes would know how to find this demon. What, between the website and—

Wait…the website!

"I have an idea!" Angel exclaimed as he jumped off the bed. He fished out Spike's laptop, glad the hotel had free Wi-Fi.

"How's _my_ computer gonna help _you_?" Spike asked incredulously, well acquainted with Angel's _affinity_ for technology.

"Demons, Demons, Demons." Angel answered shortly as he typed in the URL. "It's an internet demon database with a fancy search engine." He frowned, then glared at Spike. "Computer Tech is a required class in school; I can operate a computer just fine, _thank_ _you_."

"You're welcome." Spike shot back blandly.

Kira whacked Angel on the shoulder with the back of her hand. "You should have thought of it earlier. My neck is permanently cramped!"

"Get over it." Angel muttered uncharitably under his breath. He refused to feel guilty for saying it. He finished typing the search criteria and hit enter. "C'mon, c'mon, c'mon!"

Finally the results came up. Angel blinked at the screen in absolute shock. Archduke Sebasis glared back at him in glorious Technicolor.

"Well, shit." Was the only thing Angel could think to say at that very moment.

"Think it's him?" Spike asked, equally as shocked. He swallowed thickly.

"No." Angel sighed and rubbed his brow. "But someone has obviously taken his place. Probably a brother or a cousin. They know I killed him too, and they went after the only person they could get that was close to me."

"How do they know you're even alive?" Spike asked after a thoughtful pause, clearly confused.

Angel frowned in contemplation for a moment. He looked up sharply and his eyes collided with Spike's. They spoke in unison.

"Dru."

A

Kate struggled against the chains, even though she knew it was useless. If she gave up, even for a second, then they would win. She didn't know who these people—demons—were; only that they had some sort of beef with Angel and she was once again caught in the middle. No surprise there, Kate thought angrily, for all his "save the innocent" act, he sure puts them in danger a lot.

"The stars have sung to me, my sweet." A light female voice called from the shadows. The room was lit by a thin beam of sunlight that broke through a crack in the wooden boards covering the windows. "My Angel will come, but he will not be the same. I am saddened by their song."

"Look, I don't care who the hell you are or what your issue is with Angel; just leave me out of it!" Kate knew it wasn't a charitable point of view, but she couldn't bring herself to care at the moment.

"Daddy was gone." The woman stepped out of the shadows. She was wearing a blood red dress, black high-heeled boots and clutching a doll. "Now, I'm going to bring my Angel back."

Kate just rolled her eyes and sighed. She settled herself in for the long haul. This was going to be a _while_.

A

Of course, the fact that they knew who had Kate didn't really help them in finding her. Amazingly, what had, had been a locator spell gone wrong. They'd searched for something _of_ Kate's instead of Kate herself. This little grammar mix up proved useful in that, the place where Kate was being held was magic proofed.

The four of them had gathered behind the old building out in the middle of nowhere. The windows had been boarded up and the lawn had been left to grow unchecked for decades. There was an old pickup half buried in the front lawn of the old farm house. Angel got the distinct impression red-necks used to live there.

He crept slowly forward, not sure what to expect from the former Archduke's men. He didn't know who was in command, but he didn't care either. It could have been Barney, for all he knew, it didn't make a bit of difference in his mind. He peered through a tiny crack in one of the window boards.

It was nearly pitch black, but his eyes could see in as if it were daylight. Kate was in the top right corner of the hay loft. About twenty of Sebasis' men were loitering about on the ground floor amongst the clichéd butchering tools. It's always the butcher tools that get left, Angel thought somewhat hysterically, why not sowing machines?

There were two guards up by Kate and as Angel's eyes traveled along the rest of the loft, he spotted her. She was swaying to some unheard beat and clutching the eyeless Miss Edith to her chest. He swallowed thickly at the sight of her. Here was one of the horrible things he had done.

He leaned away from the crack. "I saw her." He hissed to them in report. "Kate and Dru and about twenty of Sebasis' kind."

"Bloody hell." Spike cursed quietly. "Three humans and a Slayer isn't gonna cut it."

"Not unless we devise a distraction." Cunningham informed them sadly.

Angel grinned maniacally. "I have an idea."

A

"This idea sucks!" Kira hissed at Angel as they loaded old barrels of moonshine into the half-buried car.

"I don't see you comin' up with a better one!" Angel hissed back, eyes flashing.

"That doesn't mean yours doesn't suck!" Kira retorted hotly.

Spike set the last barrel into the car and laid the fuse carefully by the opened mouth of one container. He retrieved his old cigarette lighter from his duster pocket. "Right. Get ready to run, ladies and gents."

With that, Spike lit the moonshine dipped rag subbing as a fuse and the four of them ran for their lives. They dived behind the barn just as the moonshine exploded. Angel covered his eyes and ears and looked away from the explosion, not wanting to get flash burn. They could all hear the sounds of chaos coming from inside the barn as at least half of the demons ran out of it in search of the disturbance and its cause.

After a few seconds, they slipped in the old side door and into the barn. Cunningham made for the hay loft, rapidly climbing the ladder to rescue Kate. Angel, Spike and Kira waded into the mass of blue horned demons, intent on taking the rest of them out. Between the three of them, they managed to dispatch all but three, who ran away to fight another day.

"That wasn't so bad." Spike remarked, heavily panting.

"Yeah, not so much." Angel replied, equally short of breath.

Girlish laughter echoed from the hay loft, abruptly putting a halt to their sense of victory. "Little mice trying to steal the cheese. Naughty, naughty."

"Ah, crap." Angel groaned, knowing exactly what was coming next. He took in a deep breath and squared his shoulders. "Dru! Let him go!"

Drusilla appeared at the edge of the hayloft clutching a gurgling Cunningham by the throat. "Daddy's here. But he's not Daddy. No, not my Angel, not Daddy. Leave, Liam-Beast!"

"No." Angel said strongly. He began to slowly climb the ladder. "Let go of him, Drusilla."

"My Spike!" She wailed, Angel momentarily forgotten. "All is gone, ashes turned to flesh."

"Yes, Dru, it is." Spike swallowed thickly. "Let the watcher go, pet. Please. Do it for Spike."

"Why?" Dru demanded hysterically as she squeezed James harder.

Spike glanced surreptitiously at Angel. The boy was at the top. "Because, I asked you too. Let him go, Dru."

"You aren't my Spike." She cried. Cunningham made a disturbing choking sound. "If I kill him, will you come back?"

"No, Dru, I won't. I can't ever come back." Spike called sadly. He still felt for her, even after everything. "Now, let him go, pet."

"No!" She shrieked in fury.

Angel used the distraction. He tackled Drusilla to the floor and Cunningham scrambled away towards Kate, intent on his original mission. Angel blocked a harsh kick Dru aimed at his head and seized her ankle. He yanked hard, and pulled her underneath him, holding her wrists above her head. He could hear Spike climbing up the ladder. Drusilla laughed insanely at him and bucked her hips with all of her vampire strength. Angel lost his grip and bounced of her hips and onto her legs.

She reared up like a snake and clobbered him up side the head with her bony elbow. He heard a cracking sound that sent chills down his spine. He rolled with the momentum of her blow and landed on his knees. She crouched low, snarling like a cat and pounced on him, pinning him the same way he had her. Her empty brown eyes bored into his own.

"I'll kill you, Liam-Beast." She snarled at him.

"Get off him!" Spike grabbed Drusilla around the shoulders and tore her off Angel, sending her flying into the barn wall. He gaped at her in shock, not believing what he had done.

Angel had no such qualms. He grabbed a broken piece of wood and surged toward the vampire. She looked up just in time to see him sneer maliciously at her before driving the stake home through her shriveled heart. She turned to dust as if she had never been anything but, and left Angel resting on his knees, hands out in front of him to keep from hitting the barn wall.

He sucked in a quick breath as he came to the same realization as Spike. That was _Drusilla_.

"Dru…" He whispered sorrowfully, hands sliding down the wall to rest in the dust.

Spike knelt beside him, finger trailing in the dust. He squeezed his eyes shut and a lone tear slipped down his face and landed in the ashes. "Goodbye, my Dark Goddess."

Spike pushed to his feet, dragging Angel along with him. He grasped the boy's shoulders and turned Angel to face him. "Had to be done, mate."

"I know." Angel's voice was hollow with regret. "Doesn't mean I have to like it."

"No," Spike said on a sigh, "it doesn't." He squeezed Angel's shoulders once, then let go.

"I don't suppose you could give me a ride home." Kate interrupted them shortly.

"Sure, Kate." Angel flashed her an insincere smile. He gave a humorless chuckle. "Seems you still keep using me, even though you hate me. Fine line, that."

"Who the hell are you?" Kate demanded after they had all climbed down the ladder.

"Angel." Kira stated, clearly angry. "My best friend has been lying to me."

"Congrats, Peaches." Spike gave Angel a cheerful pat on the back. "You've once again managed to piss off the bints."

"Shut up, Spike!" Angel exclaimed with poorly hidden desperation. He took in a deep breath to soothe his frayed nerves.

"Yes, Kira, I lied. But only for the past three weeks!" Angel explained hurriedly. "I didn't remember who I was until Buffy paid me a visit. I swear, Kira, that's the truth."

"Wait a minute." Kate interrupted, hands fisting in her hair for a moment. "You're tryin' to tell me this kid is _Angel_?"

"Hard to believe, innit? What with all the scrawniness." Spike remarked sarcastically to the room in general.

Angel sent him a venomous glare. He turned back to Kate, giving her his best "kicked puppy" look. "Well, yeah." He shrugged. "Hi, Kate."

"What happened to you?" She asked in shock, recognizing the look on his face instantly. Only Angel was able to wield that look effectively on her.

"Benefit of savin' the world." Angel tried to be flippant about it. He gave her a wobbly smile. "Like the new me, Kate?" He asked cheekily.

"Angel!" Kate glared at him, affronted.

He laughed at her mild distress. "I thought it was funny."

"That's nice for you!" Kira butted in angrily. "You didn't have someone you trusted implicitly lie to you!"

"Actually, I did." Kate informed her bluntly. "Never really got over it, but Angel is a good man. He was right to hide the whole 'vampire' thing. Look at how I reacted."

Angel gave an empty chuckle. "Kira is a Slayer, Kate. She knew." He paused, shadows taking root in his eyes. "I was afraid of her. She only though of Angelus, like Connor. I didn't want a repeat of that episode."

"Connor?" Kira asked with a frown, curiosity taking over. "Who's that?"

"A huge mistake." Was the only answer Angel wanted to give. "C'mon, there are better places to talk than a barn that could catch fire any minute."

"Who's fault is that?" Spike asked with a laugh as they walked out into the sunlight.

A

They'd made it back to the hotel without bloodshed. Just barely, though. Kate didn't seem inclined to maim anything, but Kira did. Cunningham was still trying to wrap his head around the fact that the Scourge of Europe had been made into a scrawny teenage boy.

Spike thought it was funny. That was the only kid insult that could get to Angel. Spike knew it was the part of him that used to be Angelus kicking up a stink. It made Spike inordinately happy that he could still get to Angelus, even if the demon was buried under a teenager. That made it even more satisfying to Spike.

"I know you're laughing at me." Angel said from the bed in his and Spike's joined room. Kira, Kate and Cunningham were in the other one. "Stop it, Spike."

"Far too much fun to stop, Peaches." Spike replied with a devious smirk.

"Gee, thanks for your help." Angel commented acidly. He leaned back against the headboard. "I'm cursed to be a moron."

"Thought it was to be a eunuch." Spike remarked as he relaxed next to Angel. "You aren't stupid." He paused. "Most of the time."

"No, no, I'm stupid." Angel leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees. "I lied to Kira and Cunningham, Spike."

"Angel," Spike said evenly, "you don't know them well. You're right—were right—in not tellin' them. If they don't understand that, tell 'em to piss off."

"It's just…" Angel ran a hand through his hair, making it stand up even more. "I don't want to loose them, too. I have you, my humanity, and friends. I don't want to loose it."

"You won't." Spike leaned forward. "I know that. They need you, Scrawny, they aren't gonna drop you like a hot coal."

"Thanks." Angel said wryly with genuine gratitude. "I know that's not how it works, but thanks for tryin', Spike."

"Welcome." Spike patted him on the shoulder. "Harpies are waitin' in the other room."

Angel rolled his eyes and stood. "Wish me luck." He muttered darkly.

He walked into the other room. Kira was sitting on the bed, Kate was leaning against the wall with a beer from the mini-fridge and Cunningham was seated at the small card table under the window. He was staring morosely at a cold cup of tea. The atmosphere in the room was depressing and Angel wanted to run back through the adjoining door and slam it shut.

"Hi." Angel said lamely. He crossed his arms and shifted uncomfortably. "Uh, I guess I've said all I'm gonna say." A nervous chuckle. "Your turn."

"My turn?" Kira looked up from her glare at the floor. "Okay, great, let's start with 'why', shall we?"

"I told you that." Angel sighed and shifted again. "Connor is personal; I'm not goin' into it. I'm sorry for lyin', but if it helps any, I was goin' to tell you. I just hadn't worked out when."

"Oh, so nearly a month later works, then?" Kira snapped, her brown eyes glowing with hurt and anger.

"Yes—no—I don't know!" Angel exclaimed in frustration. He began to pace. "I didn't ask for all of this, Kira." He paused. "Well, technically, I did. You didn't choose to be a Slayer, you were chosen. I chose to be a champion and if that means lyin' to you to keep you safe, then I will. It's my job."

"Your job? How can you even-"

"Quite easily." Cunningham entered the conversation. "I know what he's talking about, Kira. I understand."

"That's original." Kate snorted. "Although, I still wish he could have kept lyin' to me."

"God." Kira put her head in her hands again. "Why now?"

"Doesn't matter." Angel walked over and set a hand on her shoulder. "I'm sorry, Kira. I truly am. I've only known you for four months and runnin', but you're still my friend. I'm sorry I hurt you." He looked at Cunningham. "Both of you."

"I'm not unduly upset, Angel." James answered mildly. "You are correct; it's only been four months. That's hardly enough time to trust a person with deep secrets."

Kate gave a sardonic smile. "Yeah, you're right. Too bad things always happen this way, huh?"

"Most things do, luv." Spike answered from his position in the doorway.

"Who are you, anyway?" Kate asked, her cop instincts getting to her.

"Spike." He answered blandly.

"That means absolutely nothing to me." Kate replied with a slight smirk.

"It shouldn't—mean anythin'." Spike said evasively.

"Right." Kate opined, her disbelief obvious.

"He's good guy, Kate." Angel interceded for his friend. "Helped save the world. Twice."

"Once." Spike bantered back, "Helped once, saved it once."

"Semantics." Angel grinned back at him.

"Wait a minute." Understanding dawned in Kate's mind. "Wolfram and Hart, that was you?" She frowned. "Where is everyone else?"

"Gone." Angel answered shortly, stuffing his hands into his pockets.

"Pyrrhic victory." Kate mumbled. She sent Angel a sympathetic look. "I'm sorry, Angel."

Angel huffed a cheerless laugh. "Yeah. Sorry. Word's been passed around a lot today." His eyes cleared. He gave an empty smile. "I'm over it. Really."

"Liar." Spike's comment was audible only to Angel.

The teen glared at Spike. "So are you, then."

It was Spike's turn to chuckle humorlessly. "Know that. Never said I wasn't."

"So," Kira said on a sigh, "now what?"

"The plane leaves tomorrow at three-fifteen." James threw out, not caring how it was taken.

"You were only gonna stay a day?" Kate seemed slightly offended.

"Didn't need longer." Angel answered with a shrug. "I knew we would find you, Kate. Knew that either we'd find a clue or Drusilla would give us one."

"That's both touching, arrogant and insulting all at once." Kate said with a strange look on her face. She took a sip of her beer.

Angel laughed softly. He smiled at her. "I found you though, didn't I?"

She gave him a small smile back. "Yeah, you did."

"Say, Kate," Angel started after a comfortable pause. He grinned mischievously, "are you lookin' for a job?"

"You hirin'?" She asked, feigning disinterest.

"Yeah, I am." Angel replied, grin still in place.

"Sign me up." Kate took a sip of her beer. "I'll join the White Hat Squad."

EL FIN

(The End!)

* * *

Yeah, I know, the ending just sorta sneaks up on ya. That's what it did to me too when I wrote it! Feed the stariving author feedback! 


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